Mothers Day at Scarborough Fair

Today I stepped into a place that felt untouched by time.

The trees seemed to whisper secrets to one another. Fairies sat beside little wooden bridges as if they truly belonged there. Mermaids rested near old ships, waiting quietly for anyone still willing to believe in magic.

And somehow…

I did.

For a few beautiful hours, life let go of me a little.

No deadlines. No worries. No grief. No endless thinking about what comes next.

I wasn’t counting years or responsibilities.

I was simply a woman with flowers in her hair, smiling at strangers dressed like dreams.

Children ran past with sticky hands and bright eyes.

Music drifted through the air like it had wandered in from another century.

The smell of roasted turkey legs, sweet pastries, and Scottish eggs mixed with rain, earth, and summer leaves.

Everything felt alive.

Standing beneath wings painted in impossible colors, I remembered the version of myself who once believed magic could happen anywhere.

Maybe she never disappeared.

Maybe she was only waiting for a place hidden in the woods…

for laughter, flowers, and Mother’s Day sunlight to find her again.