Neligh, Nebraska. I do not have the ability to say, nor write for that matter, a bad thing about it. It is one of those places you hear about in movies or books- the places where the people who live there always possess kindness, show concern for one another, and where good energy radiates off of everything. The small town in Nebraska means a lot to me. No existing word, or combination of words, could authentically portray the magnitude of importance that even just the name- Neligh, Nebraska- carries on its aged back. The memories that I have accumulated over the years of childhood in Neligh continue to act as the ones I cherish and long to relive the most. And not just in the confinement that remains the realm of my remembrances. Even mentally resurfacing the moments of the past will never truly quench my thirst for the ability to physically and consciously travel back into the adored memories that make me who I am today. One of those memories being when my Great Aunt Cindy had told me, “There are fairies living in that fountain, you know,” while pointing to the, now enchanting, dry cement fountain that was just shorter than myself.

It was the summer of the year 2006, meaning I was around four or five years old. Every year, my family would go back to Neligh for the 4th of July for about a week- a tradition I always looked forward to. We had stayed in Neligh for a couple of days when we went to Cindy's house to have dinner. This was not uncommon, for we always had dinner at Cindy’s because of her and her daughter's abilities to put magic on a plate.

Now that the magical Midwestern food was content in my stomach, I could continue the remainder of my day where I had spent the majority my time- outside. The air and the temperature felt perfect due to the time of day; around 6:00-8:00pm where the sun lay suspended above the western horizon, illuminating the sky with it’s natural warm glow. The fulfilling atmosphere neither too hot, nor too cold. The air in Nebraska, specifically Neligh, is thick. You step outside, and the sky around you seems to give you a hug. You begin to run, and instead you feel as if you could swim. Enjoying this feeling on the exposed skin that my favorite white dress didn’t cover, I quietly made my way past the adults who sat on the patio conversing over a post-dinner glass of wine or cup of coffee. Trying to act as the princess I thought I was at that age, I decided to go twirl and dance. Stepping down from Cindy’s patio into the grass mimicked the act of diving into the pool after soaking in a hot tub. Surprising, refreshing, back to the basics. Her grass looked perfect. Along with the rest of the plant life on her property. You could assume that Cindy’s the type of person who gets asked by her neighbors, “What fertilizer do you use?”

  Or, “How do you get your grass so green?” would ask another.

Although, her husband, Jim, carried more of a green thumb. In which you could also assume that Jim is the type of person to take time out of his day, no matter how urgent the to-do list, to tell that person all about how he got his grass to look the way it did.

Gracefully, I began to twirl in the grass trying to look as “princessey” as possible. I soon forgot about trying so hard, and quickly became enveloped in the heavy Nebraska air that smelt of fresh soil and barbeques. All the while enjoying when a blade of the manicured grass got caught in between my toes by cause of the change in position of my feet. Minding my own business, I felt the amused stares of my parents and family members. I looked up to see my Great Aunt Cindy pointing to something behind me while saying, “There are fairies living in that fountain, you know.”

“Oh yeah, Gab,” agreed her husband, my Great Uncle Jim.

I had the opinions of two different people, nonetheless the people who lived in the house, and most likely caught a glimpse of the mystical creatures every day. I had two opinions and a strong belief in fairies (next to mermaids). In response to what I had just been told, I eagerly walked over to the cement fountain without doubt that I would see at least one, if not a whole colony. As the steps towards my destination increased, the amount of anticipation building up increased right along with it- a linear relationship. I no longer had mindfulness of the beautiful grass beneath my feet, or the comforting air around me. I only truly saw the picture that my mind’s eye obtained, clouding my physical vision. Not the fountain, but what could possibly live inside of it.

Now stood the moment of truth, my feet parallel with the base of the fountain, and my eyes lying in wait for the base of my spine to pivot. I leaned in, my eyes and neck reaching farther than my back. The rough cement underneath my fingertips barely distracted me from peering down the opaque and never ending hollowed out center of the fountain. So inky black was the center it seemed that if you were to reach a hand into it, you would pull it back out merely with a shadow. Your hand forever lost in the oblivion. Oblivion. That was all I saw… at first. The time acted now with myself having complete determination, I would not allow myself to feel discouraged. Therefore, the numerous tactics I decided to use in order to see one of these notorious fairies must be effective. I waited for a long while, keeping as quiet as I possibly could, trying not even to breathe. Maybe, just maybe if the fairies didn’t think I was there anymore, they would continue on with whatever activity they had currently done before I started looking into their home. I did this for a long while; waiting… waiting… still nothing. It had come; the occasion in which I must try a new strategy.

I innocently thought to myself, “What if I tried talking to them?” thinking that they’d listen and trust me if I did.

Because it was about nine years ago, recalling exactly what I had said may come forth as a difficulty. With that in mind, I probably said something along the lines of, “It’s okay fairies, I won’t hurt you,” with a gentle quiet voice for both the purposes of not trying to scare the fairies, as well as trying not to attract the attention of my family. If they previously found amusement from me dancing in the grass, they would surely find amusement with me negotiating with the- in their eyes- nonexistent fairies. It seemed as if the words that I had just whispered traveled down into the fountain and back up again. Unreached by the other side.

It was then that I looked away for the slightest second when my Uncle Bryan hollered from across the yard at us, “Who’s up for a game of frisbee?”

Out of the corner of my eye I could have sworn I saw a small blue glow. I turned my head so fast back towards the fountain to see, again, the hollow black center of the fountain, empty. In my mind, the fairies were merely persistent in keeping their existence a secret, for I never actually saw one the way I had thought I would. I accepted that, and happily went to go play a game of frisbee with my cousins and my uncle.

Despite the fact that I never came face to face with a fairy, that doesn’t mean I never again looked in not only that fountain, but all garden decorations, differently for the years to come, half expecting to see fairies flying about. I viewed, and still do for that matter, gardens in a magical way. Always putting them on a pedestal with a sense of unreachable wonder and respect, the way I had viewed my Great Aunt’s fountain. Every time spring once again makes it’s way to us, my eager four year old self awakens, excitement inside of my heart overflows, and my Mom, my Grandma, and myself all go flower shopping.

In essence, the heart of this particular memory lies not in the fact that I did not find any fairies when I was told that I would, but that I wholeheartedly considered that possibility. Throughout the entirety of this singular recollection, my mind remained open. Even after I could have allowed myself stand with a discouraged heart due to the fact that I had not witnessed a fairy, I still believed that they coexisted with all of the other living things on this planet. Now, having a more matured sense of reality in comparison to nine years ago, I merely admire the way I had reacted to hearing about the fairies living in Cindy’s fountain. Still to this day, I use my four year old self as an example and always take one’s word; completely believe in what they decide to tell me until I can’t anymore, and simply have an extensive perception of all creation. In other words, have a mind of your own although not a mind that remains closed to other possibilities. Consider what you question. Ultimately, the ways that this memory have impacted my life inhabit only a small contribution to the numerous memories that I have gathered in my what was once, and will everlastingly be, my favorite and most influential place. Neligh, Nebraska.