I was looking at this postcard and I though, I want to be a fairy. But something else happened meanwhile…
I saw my high-school teacher yesterday at the book fair. She told me a story that happened at her class. A girl took a flower, and destroyed it with her pen. She had a bad day, she said. And that was all her explanation. My teacher is just like me. She does care about things that some people find as irrelevant. She cares about what people think and feel, and why they feel that way. What made them think this or that way, and why do they act or don’t act at all.
She is so curious, about our feelings, our thoughts, about life. She asks a lot of questions, and I love having those conversations with her. She was wondering why would someone want to destroy a flower.
Now I am looking at the picture again, and I’m thinking… I don’t want to be a fairy anymore. I want to be a flower.
Yes, I might get destroyed with that pen. Yes, I can’t fly like the fairy has. But I will still be gentle and shy, and beautiful. I will remain untouched by nature, and I will shine. I will give love back when others give me love, and I will smell good. I will be rare, and who knows, maybe I’ll get destroyed faster than the other ones.
And then again, I maybe want to be a fairy too. I don’t even know myself.They both seem so gentle and shy and precious. They both seem to be peaceful and caring, and they both seem to have wings, real or imaginary ones. Either way, I would be spreading love and enjoy life without a worry. Either way, I will be happy.
Annemarie sent me this postcard of a fairy, I think, and that fairy is fixing her wing. This is one of the many reasons why I love postcrossing (NL-3358563).
There was one little girl that dreamed with her eyes open. She believed everything is possible, and therefore, she was always happy. People would stare at her and just wonder how it is possible for someone to be always happy and never to have a sad face. It was because she was a dreamer. She believed in happiness. She made happiness. She made herself wings and believed she could fly. And yes, she did fly, and people would wonder again how she did it. But she was already up above, enjoying the view while she flew.
One day, it all changed. There was this terrible storm and this strong wind, and one of her wings broke. She fell down and she couldn’t fly. It hurt her so much. Not the wing, but the fact that she couldn’t be up again, flying, among the birds, among the planes, among the clouds and the blue sky. She cried a lot, and her happiness was not here anymore.
She saw the sun the next day. And she wanted to be close to the sun so much. People expected her to be unhappy again, but no, there she was, fixing her broken wing, singing songs and smiling, laughing even. She was happy again, and she believed. She did believe she could fly again, and this time nothing could stop her, nor people, nor storms.
I saw her a while ago. She was flying and waved at me. I smiled, because I knew she was happy. I always knew she always be happy. Because she’s a dreamer. And she never gives up.