You know what I don't like?
The fact that up until about a year or two ago, I still truly, intensely, irrefutably believed that I had really seen the Tooth Fairy reflected in the second-story window of my family's Denver apartment.
I had to have been six. It was nighttime, and I was being told to go to bed.
My mom stood behind me, as I looked dreamily out into the snow-covered hills.
Then, right when my mom was tapping her foot, her voice staring to rise, I saw her:
Very Disney, with a wand, a blue dress, and blonde hair up in a bun. She wore a tiara, but was not a princess. She was the Tooth Fairy, and my mom hadn't seen her.
I insisted she appeared briefly to me in the air outside the window, but no one believed me.
I used to KNOW I'd seen something magical that night.
Still, in my early 30s, I believed it.
Now I'm not so sure.
And that makes me sad.
Comments (4)
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