Other Side of Reality

Today I brought my laptop to the trash dump. In January, my family had the opportunity to go to Disneyworld. And I stood in the middle of the happiest place on earth and I cried. Because my children, my amazing wonderful children would never be able to go someplace like this. Because it was so far on the other side of reality. And when I am overwhelmed with irreconcilable things, I cry.

I wanted to take back a piece with me. Some enthusiastic Disney workers made some “Mickey Magic” and got me 150 bags, stickers, and maps (in Portuguese). I made a video of characters saying “Hi! How are you?” In Portuguese. I made a video for the children to find things on the map as they saw me walk through the park. And today I sat in the dirt, with kids swarming around my laptop, to see the magic.

The younger children waved back, at Donald, at Mickey, at Cinderella, as they waved and said hello. My voice caught in my throat again. Henrique, sitting next to me, would look at the screen and then look at me in wonder: “Is that you, Tia?” As he reached his hand up and laid it on my shoulder, half wondering if I was a movie star, and half wondering if I was really there with him, just then.

I wondered too. How both Rachels could be real. How I could ever explain that to those huge eyes of Henrique.