|ok, so that is confetti... the picture doesn't quite relate to |
the post, but it is too darn cute not to include it!
I am not magical. My daughter is.
I'm not daft, of course I don't believe in Magic... At least not the Harry Potter sort (although I do long to live in a Harry Potter world,) And yet...
There is a special sort of magic in a young girl who has any number of reasons to doubt herself, but instead believes in herself with fierce and wild abandon...
My daughter speaks freely and often of her magic. It was ages ago she first informed me she has magic in her hands, like Elsa. This filled my heart with joy, since my beautiful baby could well feel very differently about her beautifully unique hands...
She has Ectrodactyly. In her case it is genetic. Her hands work wonderfully and we have yet to discover something her friends are doing with their hands that she can't. (Her teacher tells me she is better with scissors than her class mates actually. Poor kids, with all those extra fingers getting in the way...) But of course her hands LOOK different. That can be a hard thing for a kid, so I was delighted to hear that she has magic hands.
The other day in the car she suddenly said "My purple magic is gone Mom! I don't know what happened to it... my blue still works though." I lamented the loss of the purple and agreed that we were glad about the blue, (while having no idea what she was talking about. She had never specified color magic before...) Later that night she suddenly informed me that her purple magic was back. Whew, what a relief!
Sometimes when we are driving in the car she will say "Can you see those lights? That's my magic. See what I am doing with those lights?" I try to keep my eyes on the road while driving, so I haven't actually spotted her light magic, but she is quite confident in in. I don't really know the ins and outs of all her magics... but there is this one she has...
You see, I am perpetually finding glitter in my daughter's hair. Only, we don't have glitter at home, and they don't use it at school. She doesn't have clothes, books, or toys that are shedding glitter (and if she did I should find it elsewhere as well, her clothes, her face, her cereal bowl...and I don't.) The first time I spotted glitter while braiding her hair I brushed it off. Must have come from some school friend who was wearing an overly glittered shirt.
But it happened again.... and again.... sometimes it is silver, sometimes blue or green...One day I spluttered, "where is this glitter coming from?"
"It's my magic."
That calm and matter of fact response was all she had to say on the subject. Looking ahead at the road she will travel, I am glad she feels no need to explain herself... she seems to say, "This is me. I just am."
I must conclude she is right.