Dear Little Girl:
What I saw happen to you this weekend was a travesty that broke my heart so I feel that I have to write about it in the hopes that you will read this and not give up on your dreams. And that you’ll continue believing that magic does exist in the world.
You see, I was at the same Mother’s Day gathering as you and I overheard what that grown-up woman said to you about unicorns. She told you that unicorns do not exist and that if you wanted to be a big girl, you must stop believing in them. I saw the expression on your face when this woman said that. I saw your look of disappointment. Your look of sadness. That all-too-familiar look of the innocence of youth being crushed like an aluminum can at the recycling center. I don’t know if the woman who told you this was your mom or a friend or a crazy homeless woman who had randomly wandered off the street, but whoever she was—she’s a lying whore!
Because I am here to tell you that unicorns are real. They are as real as the sun up in the sky. As real as the breasts hair $2000 Louis Vitton purse on the woman walking by my table at this very moment. As real as this bottle of Jack Daniels I’ve almost killed off while writing the previous sentence. And how do I know this?
