As if by magic I could feel the gentle tugs and pulls of my imagination as it longed to transform into the shimmering fairy princess I used to be. Blake said I was a fairy queen. I wonder if he knew how close to the truth that was. Why did I hide my wings in the closet, anyway? Didn’t every girl my age have a pair of fairy wings hidden somewhere? Briefly I imagined what it would be like to show up to our four-wheeling spot on Wednesday with my fairy wings on.
That ought to shake them up a bit. Of course, I don’t think I’d be able to fit in Dillon’s jeep. They were rather large wings.
My father had made them one summer when I was eight years old. I watched as he had stretched and glued thin white pantyhose across the winged shaped wire. Then with a special spraying technique he had sprayed different colors of paint onto them until they resembled butterfly wings. My mom and I added touches of glitter that trailed in compliment with the curves of the colors. For a finished look, we glued a couple of large iridescent stones I had found in Mom’s flower vase onto the tips like moonstones.
They were the most beautiful wings any one of my friends had ever seen. All of them asked my Dad to make them some too. But Dad just smiled and said no. To date he has only ever made three sets of wings. For me, Cassidy and Claire. He says that we are truly his fairy princesses.
So what are some of yours? And as always anyone can post a comment and share with us, so don't be shy! LOL! It's your chance to let someone else read it! Jenni