"Hey, what happened to my magic?" Asked Little A this morning as we were taking Big A into school.
"It's raining--it takes a little bit for your magic to warm up when it's raining outside," I told her as I switched the song via my steering wheel controls.
"Oh! Yep. There it is," she squealed with delight.
Big A looked over at me and smiled, "I remember when I thought I was magic. Like when I thought I could open doors and windows and turn the radio station by pointing my fingers."
We both grinned at each other, each of us probably recalling some of those memories.
After about a minute, Big A quietly said, "Hey, mom."
"Uh, huh," I said, a little wary because of the tone in her voice.
"It's just that sometimes, I wish I still believed in that. You know, that I was magic. Like that the Tooth Fairy really was the one leaving pixie dust in my room and stuff."
"Right," I nodded wistfully, "Me too."
"Hey! What's wrong with my magic," Little A shouted from the back. "Why isn't it listening to me?"
Big A and I laughed as I switched the song, each of us watching the wipers moving across the windshield.
"Hey, Big A," I said as we pulled up to the school, "Magic is everywhere, it's just that sometimes it changes and you have to find it again. You still have it, it's just that it works different now."
Her perfect mouth turned slightly upward as she tipped her head, "Yeah. I guess so."
She turned and headed out into the rain as I sat in my car watching her disappearing shape; my mind frantically racing down the halls of my memory, searching for the day that she quit believing, wishing for the magic to bring it back.