My Words

Magical Places

I don’t know who first showed me my magical place, but I know I was quite young. It’s a free place, open at all hours, with a vast amount of space and a never-ending collection of friends to bring along. I could get there on my grandma’s lap or with my brother and my mom through the living room. Under a blanket with a flashlight got me there as I grew.

My grandmother introduced me to a little boy there with a purple crayon, a round face, and no hair. He invited me to join him on his journey and I followed, giddy at the chance for adventure. We sailed on his boat across rippling purple waves and landed on shore for a picnic. We shared pie with a moose and a porcupine. We wandered the city until we were lost and then found again, making our way back safely to his room, completing his quest to find the moon.

Later I made my way back to that magical place and I traveled with my mom, my younger brother, and a young Brit named James. He’d lost his parents and was left with two Aunties who only cared about what he was worth, but he found his escape inside a giant peach, and rolled it out across the dirt. Safe inside the fuzzy fruit, we met his friends – a ladybug, a glow worm, and a friendly spider – and with a bit of magic, James and his crew got that peach to fly, and we were in on that journey too.

Then A girl named Alice led me through a looking glass with a tardy rabbit and a hatter who was mad. We stumbled upon some crazy snacks that made us grow and shrunk us back. There was something new at every turn in her magical Wonderland, but as she shouts, “Off with her head!” we run from the Red Queen as fast as we can. We met a quizzical caterpillar and a snarky cat, and they’re all still there every time I go back.

Photo of me sharing my magical place with my brother and cousin, circa 1984


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