The Old Man & The Fairy Godmother

The old man on the street thought he was seeing things as a lady dressed up like a fairy godmother traipsed by, with wand in hand, toothy grin and stars in her eyes.

He approached slowly to get a better look at this unlikely sight, right on the main drag of town. Cute, he was thinking but surely a little loopy. His cane tapped the pavement inching closer to FG as we will call her, short for fairy godmother. The old man we will just call him only a he. For he could be anyone at all, and many wondered who he was. but mostly folks would not be able to get close enough to him to ask. FG knew him though, who he really was. He, after all was said and done was quite a chameleon type character. One day this, another day, that, whatever suited his fancy he could be, but mostly he liked to be mysterious and say things like "can't touch this."

Indeed, FG couldn't help touching him, he had such a pretty face after all, that is, in his youth, and in her dreams she still saw him as young. FG had no magic to give him, just a little fairy dust was left in her satchel from bygone days. She knew he wouldn't trust the dust to alleviate his gloom though, so no sense wasting it she thought peevishly as he advanced. Then FG brightened at the thought of all the fish in the sea who could use her fairy dust and even say thank you for it, which was a plus; she didn't get paid for being a fairy after all.

Here in the dirt and grime of the city a little kindness stretched all the way to fairyland and back. She yanked her thoughts back to the man who now was staring intently at her as if he couldn't quite figure out what made her tick. Obviously, she was homeless and what was there to smile about anyway? Those were his thoughts.

He himself owned a mansion or two. Such luxury she sometimes thought about what it would be like to live in a mansion instead of a cardboard box, however she knew she wouldn't have found the secret key to happiness if she'd had a lot of money. She knew she'd be far too busy shopping. She'd never have time to contemplate about the time and place when her mission was over, and she went back to fairyland, that place of nostalgia, where nothing ever goes wrong, and there's nothing to fix, and there is only love and no one would even think of raising their voice to another person.

Do you want to be friends? Asked FG foolishly thinking he knew what that meant.

I am too old to be friends with anyone said he. Oh, remarked FG, I am nearly as old as you, but I still enjoy making a friend.

Then she thought mischievously well, maybe we could have a one night stand…she knew it was enough to just say hello and goodbye. That it was indeed perfect that way.

She read his mind and replied, no, I am not from the highlands, I live in the ghetto by choice. The commoners let me dance in their circles because they know I am like them. This costume I found in the trash; it was my size, and pretty, so I put it on and found it gave me magic powers, but powers only for those whom believe that fairies can do magic. I have no magic for you. We can still be friends FG ventured tentatively, hoping he would say something nice, like it was nice to meet you, or something to that effect.

The old man seldom had a happy thought however. FG thought to sing him a song that surely he would recall he himself had written. She sang the melody back to him as perfectly as possible and pleased with herself sat back to await his approval. A nod of the head perhaps in her direction, perhaps a tip of the hat before he tapped away down the street, two cents in her own hat perhaps..any reaction at all would be a boon. He said nothing but continued his insolent stare as if she had just sang the moon was made of green cheese and would he like a bite?

Well FG thought, so much for that idea. I wonder what this crotchety old fart really wants. Could it be that he no longer appreciates his own music? That's too bad she thought, because I cannot give him anything but that which he has given to me first. The friendship which could have been seemed to be not even getting off the ground at this rate. FG was far too busy being a fairy for other people who actually wanted her to be that, to worry about those who couldn't relate to her efforts to mirror back to them what energy had been found in the looking glass. Fairy godmothers do not know what worry is, they were born without the worry DNA. No it wasn't a mistake. It was meant to be that way.

The memory of the thrill of singing a perfect melody would always be there as a treasure to recall, but FG could never sing his song back to him again, for if the master of the tune had taken no joy in the rendition, it was the same for her, that there would be no joy in rendering it back to it's maker.