Everyday magic

 

My last two posts were so serious, I had to write something stupid to make up for it.

 


 

“Great,” Edward said. “I can’t get the damn lever unstuck.”

“Oh,” Wendy said. “Should I try a spell?”

“I don’t know…”

“Oh, let’s try!” She said, suddenly enthusiastic. “I’ve been practicing.”

He grimaced in spite of himself. “I’m not sure. The lever already has a lot of magic in it just to work.”

“Pish posh,” she said. “Scootch over. Humbeldy bumbeldy wobbledy fobbledy bing bang boom, now move anyway you dumb old lever!”

The lever moved alright. It moved a full three hundred sixty degrees, and went around three times.

“Oh my god!” Edward screamed. “It can’t handle that much pressure! Run, Wendy, run!”

They ran, but they didn’t run fast enough. The whole house gave a deep metallic groan, the sound of a soul in anguish. They actually felt the walls around them bow with pressure. His ears popped.

And then the plumbing exploded.

Water and feces rained down on them both.

“Goddamnit Wendy,” Edward said. “Next time the magic toilet gets stopped up, just leave it to the professionals.”

“Don’t blame me,” Wendy said. “You broke the lever in the first place.”

“Great,” he said. “This is just great. We’re going to have to move out, get the whole system repaired.”

“I can seal the pipes,” Wendy said. “I know a spell for that.”

“No no no no no–”

“Pish posh,” she said. “Move out of the way.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

Elegy for Mom

My sister said I should post this. I wrote it right after Mom died. She suffered from mental illness for most of my life, and passed away from complications due to Huntington’s disease.

 

 


 

 

Mom–

You were my idol

You were a voodoo queen

An earth goddess

A diva

A madwoman

A sophisticate

A saint

Always with a touch of the divine

Though everything you said was unreal

You never lied

You were fragile

And strong

And so much a part of me.

I used to envy the kids who had normal moms

Even the adults who complained about their aging parents

But these days I know better.

You taught me how to wear my crazy well

You were a fast friend

And a devoted parent through the last moment of your life

Often you were

So much more than human.

I battle myself not to be like you

I push myself to be more like you

You were a dark enigma

Yet transparent as light

Gentle yet terrifying

When you lived I couldn’t handle the pain of your existence

Now that you’ve died I find the absence hard to bear.

I once thought I took more care of you than you did of me

But today I understand what you sacrificed to protect your children.

Your laugh echoes in my empty heart

Your spirit derails me still

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

Another one for Mom

 

Mom

Was it four years ago

Only four

When you were in the kitchen, insisting on helping with the dishes

You took so long

Running the disposal dry for minutes at a time.

 

Was it three years ago

Only three

In the cold, you in your green trenchcoat and walker

And I took you to a Chinese restaurant

For your latest obsession, orange chicken.

You hugged the waitress and told her you loved her.

 

Was it two years ago

Only two

When I was feeding you ice cream in bed

Sugar free, but we didn’t tell you that.

You ate it all, every time if I let you.

You told us you weren’t sick.

 

Was it one year ago

Only one?

We’d asked you if you were done with meds

And you nodded an emphatic yes

One of the last things you said.

We held your blue fingers

And watched you fade.

 

I miss you

I miss you

I hated to see you suffer

I was glad you got to go

But I still miss you.

Days go by

I’ve made new friends

I’ve found new joys

I am blossoming in new ways

You would be proud

You were always proud.

I haven’t missed out on anything

But I miss so much.

 

You were always easy to talk to

You knew things

I bet everything I have uncovered for myself

You already knew.

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

A Fairy Tale

Once upon a time, a little girl noticed a blue glow under the stairs leading up to her bedroom. She peeked behind the things there and found a confused blue fairy.

“What is wrong, little fairy?” the girl said.

“I was abandoned,” the fairy replied.

“Well, you can live under my stairs if you like. But I’d rather you stay in my room with me.”

The fairy followed the girl upstairs to her room.  She gasped. “What a beautiful room!”

The room was full of fun things. Christmas lights, glow in the dark stars, hand-drawn pictures of fantastic animals, a pink four poster bed.

“Come and play with me,” the girl said.

And so the fairy lived with the girl for a long time. The girl would bring her pieces of cake and cookies and thimbles of cream from the kitchen. She gave her drawings and told her stories. It doesn’t take much to keep a fairy.

As the girl grew up, she spent less time in her room, less time with the fairy, more time with friends and boys. She took down many of her old drawings.

“Oh, not that one,” the fairy would say.

“But it’s terribly drawn, that nose is ridiculous,” the girl would respond, and remove it anyway.

One day the girl came home and said, “I got accepted into college!”

“Ah,” said the fairy. “I’m going to have to find a new place to stay.”

But the girl didn’t hear her. She often didn’t hear her these days.

The girl went off to college. She learned a great many things. She fought with her boyfriend, she got drunk every weekend, she examined all the things that were wrong with the world, she cried over her exams, gained weight, lost weight. Sometimes when she was homesick she thought of her little fairy friend, but soon was distracted by all the strange new things she was seeing and learning.

When she next came home to visit her family, she stayed in her old room. She took down all the childish things and cleaned up. She never even noticed the fairy was missing.

The girl, a woman now, graduated, got a job, lived her life. She married and had a daughter. She struggled to teach her right from wrong, while still succeeding in her job and saving enough money for the future.

The grandmother grew feeble and came to live with them. The old woman moved slowly. Sometimes she would make cookies. Sometimes she would sit on the porch and watch the sun set. When the woman worried too much, the grandmother always told her, “time will take care of things, my child.”

The grandmother adored her grandchild. She would sit quietly with her and watch her play.

One day the woman listened outside her daughter’s room, curious what her daughter and the grandmother talked about.

“That’s a wonderful animal you drew. Shall we hang it up?”

“Grandmother, I met a fairy today.”

“A fairy? Really? Can I see her?”

“She says you might, if she shines real hard.”

“Ah,” the old woman said. “What a lovely blue light. Your mother had a fairy once, when she was a girl.”

Hearing them talk, the woman remembered what it felt like to have a fairy. She stepped into the room and looked around, but there was nothing.

“Don’t worry,” the grandmother said to her. “If you really want to, you’ll be able to see them again. Time will take care of it, my child. Time always takes care of it.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

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