What a disservice it is to define magic in Disney terms. Reducing it to a stream of glitter leaping from a wand, but mostly because by those impossible standards, it cannot exist.
Magic is real.
It lives in a shower of sparks that defies gravity and dances skyward. In a partner that celebrates the full moon with me, while our daughter watches on, welcoming the night together. We are practicing an ancient magic.
Our daughter is wearing a unicorn onsie, because that’s some magic too.
Magic cannot be bought. It must be homemade, from the earth at your feet, the people who surround you and the intent to see the world a little differently than a movie princess.