Ms. Tinker Bell
C/o The Lost Boys
RE: Fairy dust (just a pinch, a sprinkle really)
It’s been years since you visited my dreams. I’m older now, and like Peter did until you reminded him, I stopped believing in magic. I did.
Adults tell their children with age comes wisdom but what they don’t mention is with higher learning the belief in magic evaporates. As the years tick by, the child now adult, forgets the mysticism of you only have to believe. We do.
Somewhere in the middle of a life, the adult walks through a cloud of déjà vu. After, the edge of a memory hovers just out of reach leaving the adult perplexed. Days accumulate but the cloud never quite evaporates. It’s a sign. Remember… it taunts, but for the life of you, nothing comes back. Day one, day two, and day one-hundred-and-three passes by with nothing any clearer after this seemingly endless passage of time, leaving you befuddled in damp and rumpled sheets. You know you’ve lost something but for the very life you are blindly walking through, you cannot fathom what it is that has gone missing.
The morning after an undetermined amount of days, you wake up with a faint taste of a kiss on your lips. You lick your lips hoping to seal in the flavor but it’s gone before you swallow. It’s a teaser to restore your hunger to unearth what’s just out of reach.
A journey ensues through an almost endless haze of blurred memories to uncover what it was that was lost and what it is being sought. In rare cases, a mapped out travel guide—including steps and layovers, best places to linger—is gifted. Very few have it this easy and have to take the long road.
That’s me TiNk. I am always on that damn long road. My whole life, I have hiked, missed trains, taken the wrong bus, walked around instead of through, missed the turning for the yellow brick road and watched Oz float away in the hot air balloon. I have. If there was ever a due-payer, I am that person. I’ve paid double more times, than I can count on my fingers and toes combined. I’m not bitter. I understand. I do.
The thing IS, just once, this singular time, I’d like a leg up, the map, the golden key, the spoonful of sugar, the ruby slippers, and one of the wishes Genie gave to Aladdin.
It’s ballsy of me to ask, I know, but I have good reason. I looked at karma’s life ledgers and I am showing a substantial overpayment. The same auditors, who tally the votes for the Academy Awards, keep karma’s book, so the numbers are accurate. Trust me.
I’m asking for some guidance through the maze. Help me find an agent for my book and beyond, gift me with the insight and wisdom to know what to do. I don’t have time for trial and error. This isn’t as easy as falling in and out of love and nursing the heartache after. I have to know what I am doing. I do.
If you’re still in the business of restoring belief in magic I’d welcome a fly by and a fairy-dust sprinkling. I’m not asking for an easy ride, only for the path to be lit up as I walk it.
Say hey to the lost boys for me, it’s been a while
A former lost girl
Do you still believe in magic?
My writer pal, June, from The Neurosis File, and I were talking about the hunt for an agent when I said I needed some fairy dust, a little bit of night magic to help me on my way. After, this letter automagically appeared on the blank page. It’s all in fun.