Making Faerie Beds With My Grandson
There is a realm of magic living inside us all, but especially
in the bones of a five year old.
William and I share a similar distance
from the Door to Elsewhere. He’s just come through it
into this world, and I’m approaching it on my way out.
The Door is closed to both of us, now, but still fresh —
the memory of when we weren’t separate people
but instead just energy, light, awareness.
Today, on a visit to the park, he said,
“I’m going to make a bed for the faeries.”
He laid down the seashells he’d found along the shore
and covered it with tiny daisies,
so it would be soft. And sweet for them.
We made protective rails around it with sticks…
…and this was real for me. Is real.
As real as any war, or cup of coffee, or gallon of gas.
And I hold it as my greatest treasure today.
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