Hello Friends,
Today I visited an old friend who lives in a cottage tucked between moonlight and morning.
You may know her.
She wears silver shoes, carries tiny velvet bags, and has perhaps the most organized filing system in the entire magical world.
Yes, I visited the Tooth Fairy.
I hadn’t seen her since just after Thanksgiving last year, when she stopped by the North Pole to borrow a jar of stardust and accidentally left with three dozen gingerbread cookies. I didn’t mind. Friendship, like cookies, is best when shared.
Her cottage was sparkling when I arrived. Not fancy sparkling. Tooth Fairy sparkling. Little lights hung from the rafters. Shelves were filled with tiny boxes, each labeled carefully by date, name, and “level of wiggle.”
She poured us tea in cups no bigger than thimbles. I required seventeen refills.
We sat by the window and talked about children. Not just the teeth they lose or the toys they ask for, but the courage they show in little moments. The first day of school. Sleeping without a night-light. Telling the truth even when it is hard. Trying again after falling down.
The Tooth Fairy said something I liked very much.
“Children are braver than they know.”
I told her grown-ups are, too.
Before I left, she showed me a tiny tooth wrapped in blue ribbon.
“This one came with a note,” she said.
The note read: “Dear Tooth Fairy, I was scared but I did it anyway.”
Now that, my friends, is magic.
Not flying reindeer magic.
Not chimney magic.
Real magic.
The kind that happens when your knees shake, but you keep going.
I tucked that thought into my coat pocket and carried it with me all the way home.
With a smile as bright as moonlight,
Santa
