What if I told you that there was a way to remember everything from you childhood? What if I told you that you could remember every single event, conversation, fact and milestone that ever happened in your life? What if I could change the way you looked at this world? What if I told you that there was still a little bit of magic left in todays universe?
I bet you would call me a liar. Turn your back on me and walk away. Besides I’m just some “up to no good, lazy, waste of space” teenager. I’m the type of girl that you wouldn’t pick out of a line. Like I said before, I am average. With my 5’6 build and my wavy brown hair. No body notices the quite girl. No body listens to the biddable girl. No body will trust me, or acknowledge the questions that I bring to the table, but that’s not the problem here. The problem is no body is looking hard enough for the magic that waits right before their eyes. No body, except for me.
I was first introduced to magic when I was 6 years old. Grade one. Thats old enough to retain memories don’t you think? At least society will believe the beginning of my story.
I sit quietly at my desk. There is a big set of windows to my left – I only know it is my left because I was taught to make an “L” shape with my hands to distinguish between the two. I am almost positive it is my left – I was more positive before I started to over think it. For arguments sake, we will say the windows are to my left. My teacher, Mr. Grey, stands at the front of the room pointing aimlessly at the alphabet – we are on the letter D, but I already know the alphabet, like most of the kids in my class. I look down at my sparkly pink shoes with the laces untied, and swing my legs forcefully back and forth with ease since they aren’t anywhere close to touching the floor. And in that moment the world around me began to change.
I am suddenly very aware of the air that is brushing my legs. It picked up slowly and gradually increased. My mind wandered back to kindergarden because around this time we would be reading a book, or playing with blocks. There’s a sharp noise above me, like my teacher banging on my desk to get my attention, instantly my eyes snap up – ready to receive whatever punishment and embarrassment came from being caught day dreaming, but instead the entire world was blurry, like when you fast forward a movie so quickly that you can’t actually make out the images.
I starred around in amazement, I was no longer consumed within the walls of my classroom. I was in a whole different world, I was in a version of my world that I didn’t even know existed. I always thought that magic would be more obvious, completely thrilling, something that disappeared right in front of your eyes. And in a way I guess I was right, because I wasn’t in the real world anymore. But looking back on that first episode of magic that I had when I was 6 years old, I realized that magic was less about disappearing and more like coming home. It brought me to a place outside of all worry, doubt, and responsibility. It gave me fresh air to breathe. In fact the magic made me feel more like me.
I know that at six years old my life was going pretty great. I mean, I was six. My biggest complaints were eating my vegetables at the end of the day or having to share my barbie with the really selfish girl in my class, who likes to pull hair when the teacher isn’t looking. But you would be surprised by how many obstacles and challenges you face when you are six years old, or at any point in your life, that you just forget as the years go by.
Regardless there is magic in the world, and somehow I found a way to trigger it.