Every child grows up with the mindset of a world with limitless possibilities. A world where fairy princesses fall in love with their fairy princes, and imaginary friends are always there to sooth and provide comfort. They believe that monsters live in closets, and a big fat man comes down chimneys on Christmas. For most children they do not ask how?, but instead ask why not?

For me, these ideas did not drift far from the reaches of my imagination. I believed in the usual tooth fairy and imaginary friend, but there was one thing though that set my beliefs apart from these ideas. My imagination was so real, I could reach out, and touch it.

It all started one day when I was playing out in the woods. I used to spend all day outside, climbing trees, and eating various assortments of leaves and berries. That day I stumbled upon a tree, that appeared to have a hole inside. The bark around the hole was arranged in a way, that resembled a staircase leading right up into it. The first idea that shot into my head was “fairies”. With my mind racing I ran inside to get my mom. I showed her the anomaly, and she was also seemingly convinced. She offered the idea that we should set out something for them to eat. “I’ll be right back,”  she shouted to me, and I sat there waiting patiently for her return. She came back not long after with part of a muffin in her hand. “Ok Victoria,” she said, “let’s set it right here and we can go back and check tomorrow morning if they took it”. I excitedly shook my head in agreement, and went inside to find something else to do.

The next morning when I woke up, I immediately ran outside to go check if the fairies had taken their offering. To my surprise, in the muffins place, sat a silver book about the size of a nickel. Inside the the book there was a little dried flower in it. From then on out there was no doubt in my mind that fairies were real, so he next day I set out more food for the fairies, and again, they answered with a trinket of their gratitude. This ritual went on for weeks, then months, then it stretched into years. Their gifts ranged from simple things like buttons or charms, to elaborate necklaces and rings.

As I grew older, I began to forget to set out food. I was beginning to grow tired of the habit, till one day the gifts stopped. I had suddenly grown up, and no longer believed in fairies anymore, and it did not stop at fairies. My imaginary friend Bobby had unexpectedly died, there was no longer bunny who brought me jellybeans on Easter, and the fat man that came down the chimney on Christmas no longer existed. To make matters even worse, I had finally come to the realization that I was not going to Hogwarts.

I was awaken with the hard truth that the world was not all sunshine and rainbows, and there is no such thing as a perfect world. Beliefs change as children grow up, and there is nothing anybody can do about it. Maybe life is a little bit duller without all the fairy tales, but now that those magical lenses have been ripped off my eyes, I see the world as clear as day, which I guess isn’t so bad.