Magic Lives Here

I didn't want to get out and walk. The sky was grey, the air still nippy, my mood a bit gloomy. But I knew I needed to move my body, feel the ground and give my mood a chance to lift.

So I walked and walked along my usual paths, expecting the view to match my mood. Instead, I noticed a row of rose-tinted tulips, their blooms ready to burst wide open. I noticed patches of daffodils gently swaying and a pair of doves softly cooing. I noticed new growth, a palette of green–chartreuse and emerald and splashes of jade. I noticed the tree trunks dressed in lichen, vibrant sienna touched with yellow ochre. I noticed my melancholy shift with every step, my heart lifting a bit with each full breath.

Then, this tiny door appeared with its mossy bark stoop.  I have walked past this tree numerous times but this was the first time I noticed the door. Was it new? I paused for a long while, reverent and still. I admired the three acorns left out like an offering. I delighted in the detail of a lion's head knocker and imagined entering the weathered door. It didn't matter how the door got there or whether or not fairies are real. In that moment, I believed with child-like wonder. For a moment I dreamed into that world.

As I made my way home, I felt a skip in my walk. I couldn't stop smiling. Sometimes a walk is exactly what is needed– that and a tiny green door. A reminder that magic lives here. An invitation to believe it is everywhere.