This is about writing and magic. Wait for it.
A good friend and wise teacher of mine recently said someone asked her if she believes in magic. My friend said, "Of course I do. Have you ever looked at a baby? Have you ever noticed how the baby changes from an infant into a baby, into a pre-toddler, into a toddler, into a child? That's magic. LIFE is magical."
Our capacity to learn language as children, simply by hearing others speak, is part of that magic. Today I accompanied my sister, my brother-in-law and my two little nieces to Greta Jo, the two year old's second riding lesson. Greta Jo very clearly communicated her feelings and needs during our time in the barn and her time in the saddle. Every new word was a discovery, from "Bridle" to "Bit!" and "Saddle!" She conveyed he excitement with, "Up? Pony. Saddle!"
On the drive home, Greta Jo's little sister munched on a teething cracker. Scrunched up next to the girls in their car seats, I grinned into Clara's blue eyes. "You like your cracker?
She straightened up a little, looked straight at me. Thinking before she said, "Cwacker." She studied me another moment, as if to make sure I understood, and then laughed. She knew the name of something. She said the name, and she knew I understood her. A magical moment in both our lives.
It still awes me that writers receive the divine gift of taking words, putting them on paper, and creating a story. That's magical, too.