I saw the fairies. They were beautiful. Little streaks of gold and blue, shimmering and shining in the green forest behind Grandma's house. I like Grandma's house. It's really warm and cozy, and Mom and I'd come every year around Christmas time.
Whenever we came to Grandma's, I'd go to the forest to play with the fairies. They loved me, and I loved them. We liked to dance with each other around the toadstools, laughing while my boots crunched in the white snow. They were so pretty. I felt happy when I was with them.
Mama is the one who taught me how to see the fairies. She played with them when she was a little girl, too. She even played with them as a grown-up. "Believe that they are there," she said to me one day. "Believe, and then you will see what always has been." I started to see the fairies after she told me that. My Mama was smart. Without her, I would've never been friends with the fairies.
But then Mama died, and life got harder than it used to be. I remember the doctor coming to see me that day, dressed in a long white coat. That white coat reminded me of the snow on the days when I played with the fairies. He told me that Mama was in heaven, and that she still loved me very much. He told me that she would always be with me. But I missed her, and I couldn't see her in heaven. Why did Mama hide from me?
I remember going back to Grandma's house after Mama died. I lived with Grandma for a long time, even while I was in high school. I played with the fairies in their forest every day that I lived there. They were really fun to play with, but as the days passed, I started to see fewer and fewer of them. I missed Mama. She always made the fairies come out to play when she was there. That was something that I couldn't seem to figure out how to do on my own.
I left for college after high school, and I didn't go back to Grandma's house for a long, long time. At first I missed the days I spent playing with the fairies in the forest, but I soon forgot about them. Days became weeks, and weeks became years. The time passed without me even noticing, and with it, my memories of the fairies.
I remember the day I woke up and looked in the mirror, then saw Mama's face look back at mine. Well, it wasn't really Mama, but it looked a lot like her. I even had small wrinkles around my freckled nose the same way she did, although my belly was much larger than hers was with you inside of it. That day is what made me remember the fairies, and what made me realize that I had to write you this letter.
I drove back to Grandma's house that Christmas, all with you inside of me. It was a long drive, and Grandma had been dead for a while. I wasn't sure if the house would still be there.
I remember pulling up to the light pink house for the first time in all those years. It was so similar to how I remembered it, but it looked so much older, too. It was pretty much abandoned.
I remember the squeaky noise that the door made as I pulled it open, dust puffing around its sides. You kicked inside of me at the sound. I think you were nervous.
All of the flowery furniture was exactly where I remembered it being. It was amazing. I slept there that night, and promised myself that I would go to the forest the next day to look for the fairies.
I woke up early that day. The sun was just beginning to rise, and little birds chirped from their nests in the prickly pine trees. I walked to the forest, taking the exact same cobblestone path that I had as a kid all those years ago with Mama by my side. Now I took that same path with my own daughter, only you were still inside of me.
I got to the spot where I played with the fairies, but I didn't see any of them. It was like they'd all run away. No amount of searching under logs or around bushes could find them. They had left me.
Then I remembered what Mama told me about the fairies. "Believe that they are there. Believe, and then you will see what always has been."
As soon as I remembered, I saw soft, dancing lights appear around me. I heard the laughs and shouts of small voices. I saw beautiful, shimmering colors of blue and gold glide through the air, and I felt something amazing.
I felt Mama.
I felt the feeling of her comforting hugs. I felt the feeling of her tender gaze. I felt the feeling of her warm smile.
I felt a love that I hadn't felt in years, one that I hadn't felt since I was a child. Was this what left me when I stopped trying to remember the fairies?
I write this letter to you now because I am scared. I am scared that I might never get to meet you. My last visit to the hospital did not go well, and there are still a few more months left before you join this world. I guess if you're reading this now, then things didn't work out as I would've wanted.
I'm not sure if I'll ever get to meet you, my only daughter. I'm not sure if I'll ever get to give you a comforting hug, a tender gaze, or a warm smile. But I know what I can give you. Those words that my own Mama gave me so long ago.
Believe, and then you will see what always has been.
Believe, and then you will feel what always has been.
Never forget, that's the truth.
-Your Mama, who loves you very, very much.
Whenever we came to Grandma's, I'd go to the forest to play with the fairies. They loved me, and I loved them. We liked to dance with each other around the toadstools, laughing while my boots crunched in the white snow. They were so pretty. I felt happy when I was with them.
Mama is the one who taught me how to see the fairies. She played with them when she was a little girl, too. She even played with them as a grown-up. "Believe that they are there," she said to me one day. "Believe, and then you will see what always has been." I started to see the fairies after she told me that. My Mama was smart. Without her, I would've never been friends with the fairies.
But then Mama died, and life got harder than it used to be. I remember the doctor coming to see me that day, dressed in a long white coat. That white coat reminded me of the snow on the days when I played with the fairies. He told me that Mama was in heaven, and that she still loved me very much. He told me that she would always be with me. But I missed her, and I couldn't see her in heaven. Why did Mama hide from me?
I remember going back to Grandma's house after Mama died. I lived with Grandma for a long time, even while I was in high school. I played with the fairies in their forest every day that I lived there. They were really fun to play with, but as the days passed, I started to see fewer and fewer of them. I missed Mama. She always made the fairies come out to play when she was there. That was something that I couldn't seem to figure out how to do on my own.
I left for college after high school, and I didn't go back to Grandma's house for a long, long time. At first I missed the days I spent playing with the fairies in the forest, but I soon forgot about them. Days became weeks, and weeks became years. The time passed without me even noticing, and with it, my memories of the fairies.
I remember the day I woke up and looked in the mirror, then saw Mama's face look back at mine. Well, it wasn't really Mama, but it looked a lot like her. I even had small wrinkles around my freckled nose the same way she did, although my belly was much larger than hers was with you inside of it. That day is what made me remember the fairies, and what made me realize that I had to write you this letter.
I drove back to Grandma's house that Christmas, all with you inside of me. It was a long drive, and Grandma had been dead for a while. I wasn't sure if the house would still be there.
I remember pulling up to the light pink house for the first time in all those years. It was so similar to how I remembered it, but it looked so much older, too. It was pretty much abandoned.
I remember the squeaky noise that the door made as I pulled it open, dust puffing around its sides. You kicked inside of me at the sound. I think you were nervous.
All of the flowery furniture was exactly where I remembered it being. It was amazing. I slept there that night, and promised myself that I would go to the forest the next day to look for the fairies.
I woke up early that day. The sun was just beginning to rise, and little birds chirped from their nests in the prickly pine trees. I walked to the forest, taking the exact same cobblestone path that I had as a kid all those years ago with Mama by my side. Now I took that same path with my own daughter, only you were still inside of me.
I got to the spot where I played with the fairies, but I didn't see any of them. It was like they'd all run away. No amount of searching under logs or around bushes could find them. They had left me.
Then I remembered what Mama told me about the fairies. "Believe that they are there. Believe, and then you will see what always has been."
As soon as I remembered, I saw soft, dancing lights appear around me. I heard the laughs and shouts of small voices. I saw beautiful, shimmering colors of blue and gold glide through the air, and I felt something amazing.
I felt Mama.
I felt the feeling of her comforting hugs. I felt the feeling of her tender gaze. I felt the feeling of her warm smile.
I felt a love that I hadn't felt in years, one that I hadn't felt since I was a child. Was this what left me when I stopped trying to remember the fairies?
I write this letter to you now because I am scared. I am scared that I might never get to meet you. My last visit to the hospital did not go well, and there are still a few more months left before you join this world. I guess if you're reading this now, then things didn't work out as I would've wanted.
I'm not sure if I'll ever get to meet you, my only daughter. I'm not sure if I'll ever get to give you a comforting hug, a tender gaze, or a warm smile. But I know what I can give you. Those words that my own Mama gave me so long ago.
Believe, and then you will see what always has been.
Believe, and then you will feel what always has been.
Never forget, that's the truth.
-Your Mama, who loves you very, very much.