As I live something resembling a normal, functioning, semi-healthy adult life, some heavily integrated things have been demystified, and I have seen them replaced with some kind of magic equally mesmerizing. If you might take Santa, for example, whose physical appearance now comes in the form of my parents running around all day from November to the end of December, often returning home late in the night with trunkfuls and handfuls of bushels and wagons and rooftop boxes of presents all for us slightly numerous and spoiled children. Okay, so they almost never wore red and the Durango was slightly easier to drive than a reindeer-powered sleigh, but they still created this impenetrable version of Santa and the workshop, and the feeling that something wonderful had happened just overnight. The sensation of that magic is hardened to me, too joyous to be re-lived, too perfect to have any other way.
The idea of a fantasy runaway princess romance had appealed to me in my girlhood, and in most regards, I did find the person I was looking for, but being swept off my feet by a knight on horseback did not happen right away. The difficulties were sometimes huge, other times, small and numerous. At times, I was a damsel to be rescued, but not always. I learned to carry us through the night when I needed to. I learned to climb down from the tower when I felt trapped in one. I learned to slay dragons. What we share is also hardened to me, not just in my memories of our many adventures, but as an extension of myself, as a requirement or duty, as an organ resembling brain and heart. The ordinary becomes extraordinary when you seize it for yourself.
And this thing resembling my normal, functioning, semi-healthy adult life comes with a variety of problems and interruptions, some fleeting, some fun, some momentous, some treacherous. It is not the dream-like processes of a life constantly building in joy and momentum I foolishly envisioned, but I do see a vibrant spectrum glowing behind all which seems insignificant, one that was never present in my imagination. Has life met your expectations, do you feel wonder in the ordinary life you were given, or something else entirely?
I know of people still living in the confines of their childhood, determined not to meet an adult version of themselves until certain expectations are met. I used to be one of those people, until I realized I was not getting anything I actually wanted in life. When met with an abysmal nothingness, you might suddenly find yourself not wanting or needing as much as you used to. You might realize that the mesmerizing magical moments you conjured in the past stand to exist in a simpler, achievable form. You might realize that the nonchalant efforts it takes to get to those ripening moments are drenched in colorful beauty, and as you bring yourself close to those moments, they are not what you imagined, but they are yours.
Maybe that is where the magic comes from—the shapes and colors we ourselves add to the captivating cookie-cutter moments we recreate are always far more precious than the ones we thunked up. It is the subtle influence we have over a life we choose to live that makes these wonders far better than anything conjured in fantasy.
January 9th, 2024
Written by Randa 