Make-Believe

When I was slightly past toddler age, I took a butter knife to the back of our small black and white, rabbit-eared television set.

I wanted to set free Gilligan and all the other castaways. I had come to the logical conclusion that he, The Skipper, Ginger, Mary Ann, The Professor and Mr. and Mrs. Howell were little people trapped in a box. It isn’t that far-fetched of a deduction for someone growing up between a catfish swamp and a soybean field in the middle of Nowhere, Indiana. Besides, I had proof of the existence of little people. All the grown-ups spotted elves at Christmas time, and even I heard them ringing their bells, warning us kids that if we were naughty Santa would only leave coal in our stockings and no presents beneath the tree.

Naturally, every Sunday night,Tinkerbell zoomed into our living room, waved her wand and welcomed us into the Wonderful World of Disney—a fantastical realm of magic, natural wonders, and good storytelling.

As I progressed in years and education, I read Jonathan Swift’s Gulliver’s Travels. Those Lilliputians—so brave and resourceful. I gobbled up all the adventures of The Borrowers books by Mary Norton. They featured an entire miniature family living beneath the floorboards of an English house. The Borrowers used empty thread spools for dining tables and bottle caps for pans, and I suppose they had British accents. They too, were brave and resourceful, and ever vigilant of the house cat. Mousers are about as popular with Borrowers as they are with mice.

The concept of little people living secretly among us still enthralls me. I want to believe in leprechauns, imps, gnomes, and of course, fairies. Whenever I see a turquoise and gilded dragonfly, I think that’s what fairy wings must look like. When I hike the mountains, scour the river beds, the meadows, and the thick forests, I find spots that surely must be dwellings belonging to fairies. You know, fern grottoes, hollowed tree trunks, and rose bushes heavy with buds and heady perfume.

Once, I used to play make-believe. I imagined what I wanted to be, how I wanted to live, who and what my best friends were. I stopped doing that when I lost interest in The Borrowers, and the imps, and the elves. I want to remedy that. I want to believe again. So, I went on Etsy and ordered a fairy. It will be my companion when I visit those locales likely to harbor sprites, pixies, and elementals. Who knows, if I make-believe hard enough and there’s enough magic dust in the air, my fairy might actually become real…

…because if there’s one thing I’ve learned with the wee bit of wisdom I’ve garnered over the years, it’s that make-believe and wishing are much more effective tools than a butter knife.