I am a witch. It took a long time for me to accept this label. I’ve always loved the romantic notion of a witch, I lapped up the pop culture when I was younger (Sabrina the Teenage Witch, Morticia Addams), and I read books about witches whenever I can. Now I am even beginning to include witch characters in my own novels, and they are very different to how I would have imagined them ten years ago. Being a witch is about working with Mother Nature, feeling the natural energy that is all around us, and accepting my place in the world between darkness and light. Mine is a world of shadows, cloaked in the normality of family life.
I recently told my 5 year-old daughter that I am a witch. She said I was telling porky pies (that’s lies, if you don’t understand my native talk). I reminded her that I have a cauldron and a wand in our living room, and that I am learning about natural herbs and remedies for daily health care. She simply replied that if I was a “real witch,” then I could wave my wand and make the house magically clean itself, so that I could stop complaining about it to her and her sister. Enough said!
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See you tomorrow, for the next letter in the #AtoZChallenge.