This I Believe

by Emily Hayes

I believe in fairies. It’s as simple as that. I believe in pixie dust and magic wands and the ability to fly. Or, at least, I want to believe. Believing in something makes it seem real, and sometimes reality just isn’t good enough for us. The things we want so badly to be real are brought to life by the power of our imagination. When your childhood is re-created by story books or old movies, the stressfulness that comes along with getting older is suddenly put at ease by a greater force: believing.

When I found out that the tooth fairy wasn’t real, I was jolted. It was one of the worst things I had ever experienced; not to put out any of the other holiday characters, but this one just killed me inside. I loved the tooth fairy. She was the reason I ripped my baby teeth out well before they were ready to go. I wrote five-page letters to her about myself and asked her millions of questions about the reason for her existence; why did she take my teeth, and what did she do with them? She always took the time to answer these questions while I was sleeping and took the tooth from underneath my pillow. It wasn’t until I realized that the tooth fairy and Santa Clause and the Easter bunny all had the same exact handwriting that I figured it out. When I told my mom I knew she’d been lying to me, she simply said, “Nothing is real unless you believe it’s real.” Because I was so angry with her, I did not really think about what she said then.  But it all made sense to me a little later on.

If you believe in something, then it’s real. If you believe in super powers, then they exist. If you believe in miracles, then they can happen. What is real and what isn’t real is not based off of scientific reasoning; it’s the ability to expand your imagination and have faith. Possibilities are endless if you believe that they are.

The question now is, why was it so much easier to believe when we were little? Why did we believe whatever we were told? I did not have one doubt in my mind that there was, in fact, a big giant bunny that crept around my house at night to hide colored eggs while I was sleeping. Now, that just sounds a little weird. But for some reason, part of me does still believe. Maybe it’s because there is nothing to show us what is actually plausible and what just seems crazy. What is normal to some is insane to others. It all depends on who you are and what you believe.

So, maybe I believe in fairies because I feel a sense of security knowing that anything is possible. Sometimes, I find myself beginning to believe in Santa Clause again, just because it makes Christmas a little more exciting. Or sometimes, I like to believe that mermaids are real when I’m swimming in the ocean. Others may feel threatened by this statement or scared. But I like thinking about my childhood and remembering all the reasons why I believed. I also like to think about why it is that I don’t believe anymore.

I believe in fairies. I believe that they fly around somewhere in the world, surrounded by pixie dust and magic. I believe in endless possibilities and miracles and mermaids. Maybe I like to believe to evoke my imagination. Or maybe, I just believe because I do.

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