Over the past few weeks, each morning around 9 am, several little hands knock on my front door. The Fairies have arrived for day camp. Usually they are adorned with wings, special things they've found in their yards, beautiful little dresses and so many new insights (mostly about love, magic and sometimes how those are the same thing, really). The days have been full of sunshine, nestled beside Lake of the Woods. Needless to say, it is pure magic.
On Wednesday, the Sunshine was nowhere to be found.
It was cold.
And oh, so rainy.
Despite the weather, we put up our hoods and made the treck down so many hills, across many puddle-filled streets until we came upon this bridge.
In the wagon, under soggy towels and sweaters were 42 colours of bright chalk.
So, the fairies began.
Cars would slowly pass under our secret bridge,
smile and wave.
Others would speed by, leaving the fairies
drenched and giggling on the sidewalk.
Others would speed by, leaving the fairies
drenched and giggling on the sidewalk.
Soon their fingers were rainbows
and their wet little fairy wings were much too cold.
And we went home.
Later, as I put their clothes in the dryer,
I thought of that magical place we had created.
On a cold, rainy day.
Those fairies,
leaving the world a better place
than when they found it.
leaving the world a better place
than when they found it.
