There were no unicorns this year. No piñatas or princess place settings for 15 girls either. My younger daughter turned ten this month, and to celebrate, she brought two of her closest friends to the pool and to our house for cupcakes. They took a quick break from swimming to head to the snack bar and put on their masks. I wanted to document what I had labeled her apocalyptic birthday so I snapped a quick photo. When we are masked up we can see the eyes more clearly, of course. The three of them looked happy, safe, almost weirdly carefree but also wise. They looked like they deserve everything and can handle anything.
Her birthday came right when lots of people including myself are hitting a wall, waiting to hear about school, worried about fall sports and our kids’ overall mental health. With her turning ten I have been thinking a lot about the world she is growing into, even in her safe little bubble. I thought I was just documenting her strangest birthday yet. But the photo ended up being a quick little dose of magic to remind me not to give in to despair or cynicism. Kids are still capable of hope, fun, celebration. She and her little friends reminded me that I can tap into the source of love that is inexhaustible. That force/spirit/God is both benevolent and embarrassingly intimate. The same spirit that sets the planets in motion and holds up the stars can give me the energy to make the requested vanilla cupcakes with pink frosting, even during a week when I have found myself holding my breath and pushing back tears.
They ran back to the pool and I told myself how badly the world needs more little girl energy. Three little girls can come together lovingly yet carefully, protective of each other even as they celebrate. She didn’t need me to micromanage some magic into her life in the form of a huge party because she is pure magic. Just because I don’t always see it doesn’t mean it isn’t there. Like God and spirit, goodness, hope, the future. Maybe even unicorns.
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