I Miss Believing in the Magic of Fairy Godmothers

When I was little I used to wait for my fairy godmother. I was certain she’d appear the moment life got too heavy, waving her wand, ready to make life golden again. She’d appear in a soft shimmer of light, just when things started to hurt. She’d be a little late for bed time and a little early for the next day at school, but she’d be there nonetheless.

But the older I got, the longer I waited. No one ever came. I lost the magic of believing someone would come save me. Recently, though, I realized you can’t wait for someone to come and pull you out from under the water—you have to learn how to swim and do it yourself.

I don’t remember when I stopped believing in magic. It wasn’t sudden—it was quiet, and slow. It was like the tide washing away after a long day at the beach, or the fade of a song playing on the radio, then static. The world teaches you to toughen up, stop searching for miracles, and stop leaving your window open at night hoping your fairy godmother will come flying through. It teaches you to start expecting disappointment. And I did. But sometimes, when the world feels too loud, I still catch that glimmer of hope. I catch myself wishing for someone to come tell me that it’s okay to believe in the softness again.

Recently, I’ve come to the conclusion that you can’t lose the magic you always believed in as a kid. It’s real, and it’s out there. You just have to make it yourself.

I’ve realized that fairy godmothers don’t come flying down in glittering dresses. Sometimes it’s your sisters finally making room for you to play, or a stranger offering a small smile. Maybe it’s your parents quiet belief in you—the kind they beg you to hold on to. It can even be the day you finally believe in yourself and think you’re worth it, even when everything feels heavy. It’s still seeing the beauty that this earth has to offer, even when the world tells you not to.

I think that in the world we live in today, with hatred spinning circles around us, it’s important that the magic we find is the magic we make for ourselves. It doesn’t have to be a grand, cinematic gesture—it can just be.

I don’t think the magic we seek was ever someone showing up to save us. It’s showing up for yourself in ways you always thought someone else would. People are so focused on waiting for their prince to come that they stop doing things for themselves.

Watch that movie, text that person, read that book. Life isn’t about sitting around and waiting on a miracle, it’s making that miracle for yourself. In some soft, quiet way, I think the world is still magic. The world holds so much beauty, you just have to be paying attention to find it. And I think that’s still possible.

Maybe, somewhere in the world, there’s a little girl holding on to the hope that her fairy godmother is real. And I hope she never loses that hope.

From my window seat to yours,

Chiara