Recently I came across old journals. In fact I wouldn't necessarily call them journals, more like scrapbooks with pages of writings and short stories and collages. There were times where I would spend all of my days and rainy afternoons locked away in my lavender coloured attic bedroom with the lace curtains. I would sit at my desk under the window and write stories about magical seahorses and the toadstool circus and eat pastel pink sugar nougat and sip pots of tea way into the night. Sometimes the fluffy cat would keep me company but mostly it was just me. Me, alone with my thoughts and my words and my sadness.
As I flick through these books of memories I smile. I smile at how magical my mind was, how wonderful the words would flow and how sweet the collages were- glitter and watercolour and dried flowers. I smile at how sad some of the writings were and how my life has flipped into something even more magical. I am happy. I am married with a little bun on the way and I am happy.
I may have closed those precious chapters of sadness but I am grateful for what they have become and how I can look back and instead of feel that sadness, I can feel happiness, proud, brave, strong.
Maybe one day the magical mind may return and I can turn the words into real stories for others to read but for now, I shall wait. I will wait for a magical quiet moment and sit. Sit and take it all in. Because those quiet moments are enough to inspire any magical mind.
That and a brown paper bag filled with rose cremes and pale pink sugar mice! Goodnight moonbeams, may the glitter glue keep your eyes tightly shut until sunrise. May you have the softest and sweetest of dreams.