When I was a little kid, I spent a lot of time exploring the woods behind my parents’ house. One of my favorite hobbies was searching for signs of unicorns.
I went through a big unicorn phase, from about age 5-11. My mom even painted a mural of a unicorn on my bedroom wall!
My parents’ house was bordered in the back by hundreds of acres of forests and farmland, that I would wander the cow paths, looking for things like glittery soil, rainbow colored leaves, hoof prints, and heart shape rocks.
Those are just the signs of unicorns I can remember. I had completely forgotten about the search for unicorns yesterday, as I was walking into school with my daughter. She stopped to admire the stones on the way.
“Mama! Look! A heart-shaped stone! It’s perfect.”
As she held it up, an old familiar feeling washed over me. Unicorns!
“Hey, did I ever tell you the signs of a unicorn?”
Lily’s eyes grew big and wide. “What? There’s evidence of unicorns?”
I smiled. Of course my science-loving daughter would use the word “evidence” and “unicorns” in the same sentence.
“Yep,” I said. And I described the list to her, feeling a bit like a wise old woman, passing on the magic to a young heroine, about to begin her quest.