I don't remember much about believing in Santa. I know I did at one point. I can not even remember when I stopped believing. I remember when my cousins found out. My brother told them, and everyone was mad as hell. But fairies...now I believed in fairies for a long time. Often I lived in places where there were lots of wooded areas. Even in the towns we frequented there were places secluded and dark. I remember little hollows against huge fallen logs covered in green moss. There were huge trees everywhere allowing bits of light to fall onto the leaves. I spent hours in the woods, reading and writing. I would look for fairies, look for signs. There was as I got older the same will to believe I saw in Umberto. I thought I could hear fairies singing and whispering when I followed tiny creeks. I built, in my mind, villages, places for the fairies. I used to leave bowls of milk out.
Discovering Wicca was more than just finding a religious home. It was a fulfilment of a guilty pleasure...being able to engage in a magical world that part of me wanted to exist. I was able to live partly in a world that was filled with supernatural beings and forces. One thing studying religious did was to finally deliver the death blow to that belief. I can no longer will myself to belief.
Umberto and I began to read the Spiderwick books a year ago. It's a wonderful series. Very dark. Filled with fairies of all kinds. I enjoyed reading these with Umberto, and even more enjoyed his own belief in fairies. Here I am, a vampire, sucking my child's belief because I feel unable to form my own. Belief is a fragile thing. A moment captured in a crystal. Shattered so easily.
What about you dear readers? Do you believe in fairies?