Fairy tales are a hobby of mine. I've loved them as long as I can remember and I devoured every one I could find as soon as I could read on my own. Over the years I've studied the Grimm brother's works, Hans Christian Andersen, Andrew Lang's colored fairy books and on and on. I've enjoyed numerous retellings of my favorite stories, including both of Robin McKinley's versions of Beauty and the Beast and this hobby has also led me to fascinating readings in mythology and cultural and sociological studies.
I'm not discriminating about what I read before bedtime, as long as it's something. Usually whatever I read does not influence my sleeping thoughts; not even the books about Ted Bundy or Jack the Ripper. But the fairy tales do. I've had all sorts of strange and sad and outlandish dreams lately, which really makes me think about how fairy tales stretch and stray from our understanding of the real world, and also how close fairy tales strike to the heart of our fears.
One of the most common fears, recurring again and again is the desolation of being alone in the world without your mother. Think about it: Cinderella, Snow White, Hansel and Gretel, Rapunzel; these stories and many more shows how hard life can be when you don't have your mother to help you.
That's why, even though I wouldn't mind magic and fancy gowns, dancing and a guaranteed happy ending, I'm glad my life is not a fairy tale. I miss my mom, but I know she is there for me. I think that today is even more important for children than it is for mother's. It reminds us of what we have. In that spirit, Happy Mother's Day, everyone.
