I remember the first time I saw magic… It wasn’t in a circus or on a TV. No, I was out in a field. I can’t remember where. I was lying and looking at the sky. It had just been raining and I remember thinking that I ought to go home. Mum would be angry that I was wet and muddy.
But then the sun came out and it was like the world had been lit up. It was warm and I felt held by the ground. The field was tall, it must have been an uncut hay meadow, and the flowers were big. Not Alice in wonderland big, but much larger than they are today. Either that or I am bigger.
All I could smell was the warming ground and dirt. It was comforting. If I looked up I could see the sky was turning blue, so blue that it almost hurt to look at it. Around me the grass and flowers started to wave a little. A breeze picked up and with it came the musty sweetness of hay.
Near my eyes there were three stems that ended in what I thought to be buds. I wasn’t paying attention but one moved. It waved and moved again. I then watched astonished as a flower began to open. Slowly at first and then with a final flourish opening to show white and pink petals. So many I couldn’t count.
Now of course, I know that the daisy had closed it’s petals in the storm and opened them because of the sun. But then it was magic. That wonderment of seeing something happen that ought not to. I watched those flowers to see if they would move anymore until my mum came and found me.
Well, there is magic everywhere, but for me it can be summed up with the opening of a daisy. And yes I do believe in magic, the kind you find under your feet every day and don’t notice.
This post was inspired by the daily prompt – do you believe in magic?