I don’t believe magic is casting spells or drinking potions. It’s much more simplistic than that. I believe “magic” is how people explain the unexplainable. It is the first snow of the year, when the world seems to fall silent. Or it is a new born baby’s first smile, or that ray of sun that shines through the living room window on Sunday afternoons, warming from the inside out. This magic takes many forms. It’s the subtle glow of fireflies that dot the summer night, the tingle and fright of first falling in love, or the sound of rain pattering on the tin roof, creating a stillness in the chaos. Magic isn’t the leprechaun holding a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, but rather, the burst of color in the hazy, storm-torn sky. Simplicity. It cannot be explained by human terms. Isn’t that what makes these things magical?
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