Magic, Captured

June 6, 2016 § 7 Comments

“I don’t get it,” the little boy said.

He was looking at my Book of Fairies. Assuming he was astounded by my artwork, his mother began explaining how I made the pictures for my books – how I drew them by hand, using a pencil to sketch and then add more detail; how I used pens and paints for color.

“But I don’t get it,” he repeated. And his mother said “I know, it’s pretty amazing right?”

“No”, the little boy said, shaking his head and scrunching his nose. “I don’t get magic.”

Then he thought a little more and added “I don’t get magic. I only believe in ninjas.”

Yet there we were, sitting at my kitchen table, the air thick with that very thing, that elusive stuff called magic.

Not the hocus pocus kind. No card tricks or rabbits emerging from empty hats. But moments when you can’t help but feel the stir and sweet bristle of magic in the air – which is the best way I can describe my meeting with this little boy’s family last September. (And I realize this could be a “you had to be there” kind of story, but I’ll tell it anyway, because it’s a sweet story – and because sometimes the stars align, and when they do, I tend to pause and take note.)

It had ordinary beginnings. A friend introducing one friend to another on facebook. My initial reluctance (how many facebook friends does one need?), then giving in. New friend sharing pictures from her daughter’s fairy-themed birthday party, my Book of Fairies as centerpiece. (Hearing that people may do this is one thing; seeing it – gorgeous photos of the book surrounded by fairy decor and childhood joy – is quite another. My heart was full.) Notes shared back and forth. Connection and friendship blossoming. A few months later, “…we’ll be in your area, my daughter would love to meet you and have the book signed?”

It’s a beautiful day when they stop by. And there it is – that unexpected stir and bristle in the air. We smile and hug as if we’ve known each other for eons. We do ordinary things like chat and look at art and drink tea and eat the brownies I’d prepared – but nothing feels ordinary. The light is crisp and clear, the mood exceptionally easy. A veil lifted. And somewhere in there the children steal my heart.

We get around to signing the book. Sitting on my front stoop, a white butterfly lands on my writing hand. It stays while we talk and stays while I sign the book and stays while we talk some more. It stays and stays, and stays until we question whether it’s indeed alive (although I would swear I felt little feet moving on my skin). Eventually my new young fan gently nudged her fingers under its wings and turned to a nearby plant where our butterfly friend floated a few wing beats to land on a leaf. (So, yes, it’s quite alive.) And as if watching over us, it stays there for the rest of our time. I don’t know about you, but butterflies I’ve known don’t generally attach themselves to people.

The air was bright with magic that otherwise simple afternoon. You could almost see it. We all felt it. For all I know there might have been ninjas there too.

Here’s a little bit of it captured. (With gratitude for the universe conspiring to bring us together.)
auri.me.book14x10

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butterfly

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All photos © Lacey Marie Photography

 

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