This weekend, Indy and I uncovered a stone pathway that runs from the front porch to the mailbox of our place upstate. It was covered almost entirely by dirt and grass.

We scraped, swept, dug and talked. I told him that we would plant a garden next spring and asked what he would like to put in it. Flowers, he said. I asked him if we should plant any of the magic herbs from the show Just Add Magic that he’s recently been watching.

He looked up at me, noticeably worried. That show is make believe Mama. I assured him that I knew that it was pretend, but then asked him if magic was real. He said he believed in magic, but he has never been able to use it. That’s faith, isn’t it?

I believe in magic, and ghosts, and a universal force1 that guides everyone of us.

At least, I believe in my belief. I don’t question the probability of these principles. I’m not actually expecting to see Santa Claus, but my faith in that chance sustains me.

I like to gather information from valid sources. I place th…