Looking For Pixie Dust

Pixie hunterMy daughter is looking for pixie dust.

I can’t bring myself to tell her it doesn’t exist.

Who am I to say there’s no such thing as pixie dust? Her grandfather has seen the real Santa Claus.

“Just give her glitter,” her teacher said.

That teacher doesn’t know my daughter very well. I’m afraid she’ll try to fly.

So instead, I help my daughter search for pixie dust. What else can I do?

We look under rocks and in fields. I tell her when we see a rainbow, we need to look for the end of it, because I heard that’s a place you might find pixie dust.

I tell her that pixie dust is something you look for your whole life, and that only the luckiest people find it even one time.

I myself never have. But I’ve come really close a few times.

We especially look in gardens. Gardens are full of magic and anywhere that’s magical is a good place to look for pixie dust. Avery and I are in agreement about that.

Tonight we were in a garden bursting with magic. There was snow on the ground, but the gentians were budding and the mint was awake. A wild bunny let Avery get so close, I stopped being afraid she would scare it away, and started being afraid it would bite her.

Instead, when she reached out and touched it’s back, it shivered—but held it’s ground.

See? Magic.

We didn’t find any pixie dust. But there are more gardens and the bumble bees will be here soon. We will ask what they know of the pixie dust.

All of my dreams for my daughter, all of my hopes for how her life will turn out, have become bound up in a single wish:

I hope you find pixie dust, Avery.

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