When I was younger, I would have a bouquet of lily of the valley next to my bed, and as the fragrance wafted into my room, I would silently think that the small bell shaped flowers could hear my dreams and were taking diligent notes to ensure they all came true. I would believe that every time a bubble burst, a fairy giggled, and then one day those thoughts just stopped.

I replaced them with to do lists and expectations for myself and the people around me. The whimsy was replaced with aesthetic choices. The flowers next to my bed were replaced with candles that felt more practical. Snowflakes no longer carried messages, but served as a soft reminder that I needed to bundle up. Oddly, I miss when I would dramatically fling myself onto my bed and cry over the silliest things. I have replaced the drama with inner consolation and reminders that my feelings are valid.

I replaced imagining my past lives as royalty with focusing on my career and a five year plan. Timelines and placeholders for myself took the place of daydreams. It’s almost as if castles no longer existed, but I needed to reach the highest floor of office buildings instead. No glasses slipper were to be found, instead I was being met with glass ceilings.

When I was younger, I dreamed of being in my twenties, and now that I am in my twenties, I wish I could shake that little girl and tell her that none of what you imagined happens. That the movie endings where the hero shows up at the heroine’s doorstep exist only in films. People are not always nice simply because you are, and not everyone will meet your kindness with the same warmth.

On this International Women’s Day, I want to especially honour the women who make me feel whimsy again and who give me the space to laugh a little louder. I hope I slowly find the person I once was and believe in the silly and whimsy all over again. After all, what is life without a little sparkle?