Life was once magical and then I grew up!

When I was a child, I looked at life in total wonder and awe. Life was magical and exciting, and the smallest of things were utterly thrilling to me. I was fascinated by the birds singing, trees moving along with the car, a butterfly flittering through the air, stars shining bright at night. Parting with my tooth was also exciting, because it meant the Tooth Fairy would be visiting me that night when I would be sleeping and I would count days to that magical night of Christmas! I had no idea how Santa Claus could make so many kids around the world happy in one night, somehow he did it, and he had never let me down until I grew up and then my wishes could no more be put in the socks. I don’t know if my wishes have become unrealistic or may be, weird.

There were fairies in the garden, my dolls had personalities, Red Riding Hood was real and so was snow-white & the seven dwarfs, Alladin could fly on the carpet with Jasmine, I could have long hair like Rapunzel, my dolls celebrated their birthdays, dreams came true, moon was a relative, and I could not just touch the stars but also, keep them in my room. My imaginations had no limit and I believed that life was magical. I had an exquisite feeling that everything is good as a child and there’re no bad people. The only thing I knew was we all loved each other, there were no feelings like hatred and jealousy. The only things I disliked were spinach, bottle gourd and lady finger. I didn’t know what having a grudge against someone meant. I didn’t know what it was to hurt someone with words because everything I spoke was taken as cute, hilarious or childish. The innocence I once had is lost, now I understand those mean words which can rip you off. Then every word made my day, because all I knew was good people. Every new day meant more excitement and more adventure and that nothing could thwart my joy for the magic of it all.

But then I started to grow up, responsibilities, problems and difficulties took a toll over me, I became disillusioned and the magic I once believed in as a child faded and one day, it just disappeared. I guess, this is why I like or we like being with little kids because we see them enjoy like we once use to, even if it’s just for a moment. We see the joy on their face that once was there on ours. The only place I get to live my childhood is at home with my parents. No matter how old I get, I will always be little for them. They would still tell me when I first started to crawl or walk, how I didn’t cry on my first day to school, how I loved buying matching hair pins/clips, the first word I spoke, the first time I went to my grandparent’s place to spend my summer breaks when I was in Play School and how I refused to recognise my mom when I met her after a month. There were no worries then and there are no worries now but then what is it that makes life less magical than it was when I was little.

I am not sure now whether the magic I once believed in is true or it’s the disillusioned adult perspective of life that is false. I wish life was as breathtaking, awe-inspiring, and exciting as it was when I was little. When did I give up believing in the magic? I don’t even remember. Or I believed in it until sometime back. But how long back? I don’t know.  Life has become so stressful and busy that we don’t even remember when we stopped believing in the magic that once was everything to us.