A Very Fairy Past

 I am one of the few who believes the stories of its existence. If that miraculous sounding place could exist, then surely other wondrous things could as well. I had built three fairy houses the week before and stored them in my adventure backpack. Today, I made two sandwiches and started on my adventure down the cobblestone road. The wishing well has always been beautiful. Half full of water, it stands in the middle of a flowering, spring meadow filled with daisies, daffodils, and many other arrays of colorful wildflowers. The meadow had a beautiful mix of lush green, purples, pinks, yellows, and every color in between. When the wind blew its warm, summer air through the field it brought waves of contentment and peace with it. Old stone slabs with luscious vines of ivy and flowers wove their way through the crumbling slate on the well. It stood tall in the middle of the vast meadow and only those who looked for it could find it. 

I basked in the sight of the coveted magic well. I sat down in the soft, grassy meadow and ate my sandwich as the breeze blew through my wavy brown hair, ruffling it slightly. I pulled out my three pixie cottages from my backpack and placed them around the well. This surely seems to be a place where every fairy would love to live. Quiet, except for the wind I could hear waving through the flowers and whipping around the well. Calm, except a few birds that would take off for flight every now and then. This really was a magical place for me. For a moment, something buzzed by my ear and it startled me. I look around and I expect to see a bee or fly of somesort. It’s a fairy! It’s a real fairy!! I never thought I’d see one in person! She is petite and has her hair up in a tiny spike. She has fair skin and her little shoes have small points on the ends. Her wings, they look exactly like leaves! No wonder no one ever sees them! She taps my shoulder and quickly zooms to the other side of the well. As I wonder what she’s doing, two more fairies came out! I’m shocked! They’re playing a game of tag and are bringing me to play with them! I chase them around in the warm, summer sun as they turn around and chase me back, through the lush, green meadow. 

This quickly became my favorite place on the entire planet, as many could likely imagine. Every day after school I run straight for the meadows and do my homework with the fairies and play until dinner. In summers, I bring lunch to the meadow and would stay there from dawn to dusk, sometimes I would even stay the night. I don't make very many friends with this lifestyle, but I don't mind. All I need are my three fairy friends and everything is perfect. 

I continued this until I was about thirteen and my parents were growing more and more concerned with my lifestyle and obsession with my meadow and so when winter came, they took me away and we moved somewhere new to me. The trip was by car and even the rain that slowly dripped down the windshield appeared sad and only enhanced my mood. I entered an enormous state of depression. I became constantly fatigued and didn’t ever leave the new home. All I ever did was school, and draw fairies. I quickly became the artist of the school, not that I cared much. My art wasn’t for anyone else other than me, this green eyed, freckly, porcelain skinned girl. I decided then, that I was going to get an art scholarship and move back to a college in California near the meadow.

Eventually, the time comes but I don’t have enough money even with the scholarship. I end up going to a junior college and selling my art as a living. I got married and had a lovely daughter, fairies became a distant thought in my head. At some point in time I realized I had the opportunity to take a trip near the meadow in California to paint for some people at Glass Beach. I took it, and kissed my girl and husband goodbye for the next two weeks.

As soon as I was situated in my temporary home, I drove to the meadow. The wishing well was still beautiful, but not filled with childhood wonder. Empty of water, only parts of it stood in the middle of a wilted, spring meadow filled with thorns, weeds, and many other arrays of broken nature. The meadow had a simple mix of monocolor browns and yellows. When the wind blew its hot and sticky summer air through the field it brought waves of bitterness and annoyance with it. The old stone slabs with luscious vines of ivy and flowers had died, destroying the pieces of well it had held together. The remains sat, crumpled in the middle of the vast and empty plain. Only those who looked for it could find it, not that anyone would want to anymore. I am one of the few who can add memories to the stories of its existence. If that miraculous sounding place didn’t  exist today, then surely it carried on through wondrous things like my little girl. My three fairy houses I built were broken. I took out my two sandwiches and ate my snack. 

There was no more coveted magic well. I sat down in the spiky, dead grass and cried as the harsh wind whipped my wavy brown hair into my face. I grabbed the remains of my three pixie cottages from their place and they were no longer around the well. This surely seems to be an unfit place for a  fairy to live. Loud, they had built a highway a block away. Chaotic, everything was a crazy mess. This used to be a magical place for me. For a moment, I thought something buzzed by my ear and it startled me. I look around and I expect to see a fairy of somesort. It’s a bee. An ordinary bee. I was disappointed.  No petite, hair up in a tiny spike fairy. No fair skin and  little shoes that have small points on the ends. No wings, that look exactly like leaves. No wonder no one ever sees them. They don’t exist. I don’t receive any taps on my shoulder and I don’t see any zooms to the other side of the well. No more fairies came out. No amazing shock. They’re gone. I can’t chase them around in the warm, summer sun as they turn around and chase me back, through a nonexistent lush, green meadow. This quickly became my least favorite place on the entire planet, as many could likely imagine. My childhood was gone.

After I finished my California commission, I went back to my home in Arizona and sulked. The things that made me the woman I am today, were gone. I had been sad all day when my daughter came into my artwork room and told me she had seen a fairy. I remembered all of my past and as of then, I knew that my special meadow lived on in my daughter. My lovely girl had the best parts of me in her. I offered to share some stories of when I was a little girl with fairies and pulled her onto my lap to revisit what was once a very fairy past.