By Nichole Giles
Most adults don’t believe in the Easter Bunny. Nor do they believe in the tooth fairy. And way, way too few grown-ups believe in Santa Claus.
By all accounts, Santa Claus should be hundreds of years old and long past dead from old age. Yet we tell our children all about him, not only allowing them to believe, but encouraging it. When a tooth falls out, we remind our young children to put it under their pillow, just as during the holidays we ask them what Santa will bring and then we take them to the mall to sit on Santa’s lap so they can tell him these things.
Why would smart thinking, full grown adults—who detest lying of any kind—encourage their children to believe in a fictional being? I’ll tell you why. Because secretly, somewhere deep down, we all remember what it’s like to believe in magic. To hope for the impossible and the illogical. We remember what it is to dream.
We want these dreams, this magic, for our kids.
I believe in magic. I believe in the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, Santa Claus…and what’s more, I believe in fairies who bring to fruition every day magic. A lot of people absorb all the magic they can during the holidays because for some reason, they believe the wonder has to end on December 25th. Does it sound a little crazy that I’m a full grown adult (I will not mention my age) who never forgets to thank the parking fairy when I get the perfect spot?
The point is, growing up and becoming adults doesn’t have to mean we stop believing in the wonderful and magical things we knew as children. On the contrary. Once we grow up we get to see the other side of the magic, which makes it all the sweeter.
We write because we dream, and we dream because we can, because we were taught by our parents that it’s okay to feel like that. Magic has a place, and a reason. And dreams encourage hope.
Hope. Dreams. Magic. Three of my favorite words. No wonder I’m a writer!