- Dear Sackgirl and Botboy,
Aren’t faeries fantastic? They are teeny creatures that somehow can care for the enormity of nature. Elves, on the other hand, are sneaky and tricksy, but the most amazing bowmen, unrivalled in their skill, imposing in their arrogance. Ogres are considered slow and ponderous, but perhaps they are misunderstood. Whereas everyone knows that a dwarf is grouchy and only interested in digging for gold.
Of course, you know all about dragons. We’ve talked about how they use their magic to hide themselves from humans, because how else could they remain hidden, considering how very enormous they are. Whilst most dragons are wild and free and live high up mountain ranges in the remotest uninhabited parts of the world, some younger dragons remain curious about man.
Like our friend, a red dragon, one of the nosiest kinds. I don’t know his name, he is very good at hiding, so much that I only ever get glimpses at night-time. He lives in our garden and shoos away the monsters who try to sneak in to eat our chocolate and hide a sock or two. (Mummy doesn’t let monsters in the house, because they are dirty and smelly and need to bathe! That’s why we all have to bath regularly, in case mummy mistakes you for monsters and you have to sleep outside with the chickens.)
We often hear him flying around the house at night. At first it scared you, Sackgirl, hearing the whistling through the eaves of the house caused by the wind stirred up as he swept his huge, powerful wings up and down. That’s when we talked about him for the first time, so that you knew how we were protected, and how very lucky we are to have a dragon as our guardian. When Botboy was old enough to hear the wind, you told him all about our family dragon.
Other people think that dragons are tales and legends. But if that’s true, and they never existed, where did all these stories originate from? How could every culture have created the same kind of legend – a magnificent magical creature that flies, in defiance of the laws of science which would prevent something so large being able to fly with wings so small, unless aided by magic.
How could every land have their own tales of dragonkind? Tales of mystical creatures and legendary monsters have shared around the campfire ever since Prometheus first stole it from the gods.
In the words of Anne McCaffrey, one of my favourite ever authors –
When is a legend legend? Why is a myth a myth? How old and disused must a fact be for it to be relegated to the category ‘Fairy-tale’? And why do certain facts remain incontrovertible while others lose their validity to assume a shabby, unstable character?
Perhaps that is why our dragon chooses to live with us – because we believe.
F is for Fairy-Tale.
No matter how old you grow, I would wish two things for you.
1. Never lose your sense of wonder and imagination.
2. Always remain curious and open to new ideas.
A moment of sunshine – bring on the sunscreen.
F is for Future
Maybe you’ll marry, maybe you won’t, maybe you’ll have children, maybe you won’t, maybe you’ll divorce at 40, maybe you’ll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary . . .what ever you do, don’t congratulate yourself too much or berate yourself either – your choices are half chance, so are everybody else’s.