I love my daughter Emelia’s belief in fairies. She regularly builds villages for them in the yard, pens heart stirring notes starting with “Dear fairies” and leaves shiny offerings such as earrings and buttons tucked in places, she thinks they might find them. Some 10-year olds leave fairies behind before they hit school age, if they ever believed at all. Their focus swept up by cell phone and social apps, activities such as dance class or soccer, and homework. Despite scepticism from some friends, Emelia’s faith has unwavered.
Maybe it’s easier to believe in fairies because we live in the perpetual mossy, green, forested Pacific Northwest. I don’t recall learning about fairies when I was Emelia’s age, aside from Thumbelina from the Hans Christian Andersen fairytale, and Tinker Bell from Peter Pan. I grew up on the Canadian prairies where fields of canola, wheat, and lentils cover the majority of the earth. The poor fairies would be constantly invaded by combines and tractors not to mention grasshoppers the size of gerbils. The harsh winters with snowstorms and freezing temperatures hardly seem fairy-friendly either.
Emelia’s introduction to the fairy kingdom was likely inspired by good old consumerism. When she was two, I bought her a shimmery pink fairy outfit complete with wings and wand. It was cheap and from a department store. I admit I was a little caught up in having a girl and drawn to the costume. I was mindful not to buy only barbies and dolls though she did have one or two, and she had cars and LEGOS like her older brother. Blue and green clothes were as common as pink in her closet, and her bedroom was painted orange. But something about the fairy costume drew me into the world of spritely things and delicate wings.
I soon bought two or three books on fairies and these were added to our bedtime routine. Not long after, fairy furniture popped up in the local craft store, so I purchased a few items. I wasn’t going completely crazy with fairy paraphernalia – there were no bedspreads, wall posters, backpacks, etc – this was a mild interest. Most of Emelia’s friends were dancing around in blue shimmery Elsa from Frozen dresses and all the other Disney accessories. As I said, we were in mild fairy fandom.
I am sure our backyard and ample time spent in nature lent itself to Emelia’s fairy interest. Despite living in the city, our backyard was almost half an acre. It was terraced into three sections lengthwise with our deck, a sandbox, and row of cedar trees on the first terrace. The next level was a long stretch of grass where we played Frisbee and soccer or jumped on the trampoline. The bottom level contained a wooden play structure with swings, a slide, and upper level hideout, plus a section in the back right corner where we had left a patch of natural forest including short walking trail.
A tasty buffet consisting of cherry trees, raspberry, gooseberry, and red current bushes lined the full length of the left side of the yard. Strawberry plants covered the any spare patches of soil. We never used any chemicals so moss co-existed marvellously well with our grass and on top of the paving stones, outdoor furniture, and every other surface. We dug a round fire pit in the back yard where we roasted marshmallows and my father had buried Emelia’s placenta in the back corner of the natural forested section after her homebirth on a record-breaking hot June day.
We loved our yard and it loved us back. Emelia spent countless hours outside on her own since Nicholas was off to school and she was home with me. I could see her from the kitchen window and the backyard was fenced though large enough, so she felt as if she was roaming alone in untamed wilderness. And once she knew about fairies, I’m sure she considered them her invisible playmates. I know she tried desperately to coax them out with smooth, colorful rocks and braided daisies she would leave hidden beneath the slide or in the crook of tree branches around the yard. I would often find her tributes to the fairies when I was doing yard work.
But why am I writing about fairies now? We moved from our house with the beloved backyard and exchanged it for a modern home on the edge of a protected forest two years ago. Our backyard is now a maintenance-free slope where deer roam and graze, as well as bobcats, raccoons, and the odd bear in the spring. Out of the four of us, Emelia mourns the loss of the old home the most and asks weekly, “Do you think the people who live in our house are taking care of the yard, Mom?”
She brought her fairy furniture with her when we moved, and she still builds villages in our tiny patch of front yard. She also started writing longer notes to the fairies and leaving them under her pillow. The latest notes and gifts are inspired by our dear, fluffy, calico cat Izzy who disappeared without a trace. Without telling us, Emelia started writing the fairies, imploring for their help in bringing Izzie home. I was tidying up her room one morning after she went to school and I found the notes overturned beside her bed. There was a little silver thimble and a shiny penny there too—her way of honoring the fairies for their good service. The notes read:
“Fairies, please, please, please bring our cat Izzy back. I promise to cuddle her more often or at least try to remember. P.S. You can have one of my earrings if you like. They are in the tiny blue box on the counter in the bathroom. Just please bring our cat back.”
I heard Emelia crying before bed and she told me she couldn’t get thoughts of Izzy out of her mind. Wondering where she was, if she was warm, or if she was hurt. The not knowing was painful. We have no idea how she got out of the house or if she did. There was no sign of her on our cameras from the front or back of the house. Very unusual. If she gets out, she hangs around the front door or across the street with our neighbors who are cat people and enjoy her presence on their porch.
I realized when I saw Emelia’s notes how grateful I am that she has the fairies. We don’t belong to a church yet Emelia knows a lot about religions and deities from various cultures. She feels most drawn to the little people she envisions so easily from all the pictures in the books we’ve read and because the trees and rocks where we live seem like a natural fit for their habitat. I know she believes in them with all her heart. She has a knack for math and science but so far nothing has made her question her belief in fairies. She believes because of stories and her own imagination. We never told her to believe or that fairies are real. If she asks, I tell her I have heard some people believe they are real, but I’ve never seen one myself.
I feel a little envious of her, in a loving mom kind of way. I want to write notes with my most pressing fears and strongest desires and ask the little people for their help. I speak to a higher being in my mind sometimes but there is no concrete picture for me or one name. I look inward for guidance and just last month I created my first vision board. I meditate regularly and go for walks and hikes in nature weekly. I look for the moments to reach out to a force beyond myself in gratitude and for guidance. I know some adults believe in fairies and thanks to seeing my daughter benefit from her strong belief, I feel a spark of belief in me too.
That was not my plan when I bought the pink costume seven years ago but watching my daughter cultivate her own belief has ignited something in me. What shiny offerings should I leave under my pillow when I write my first note? Maybe the feeling I get when walking through the forest alone is not only nature or my sense of something beyond, maybe little beings do dwell there, and it is their eyes I feel upon me? I’m not ruling it out.
Check out two of Emelia’s favorite fairy books: Children of the Forest by Elsa Beskow and Flower Fairies by Cicely Mary Barker.
365 Days of Self Care 