“Mum! The Magic” It’s said through the gap in your teeth with an urgency that makes me stop unpegging half dried washing.
“If you put both feet in the fairy ring you’ll go to their world and never come back.”
Through the open back door the sound of your sister waking mixes with a haze that suggests dinner just passed being ready. I dip a toe, chipped varnish, into the mushroom circle. You watch agog, the dichotomy of not wanting me gone but needing the magic to be real.
Then in I leap as the drizzle turns into a storm.