I spy on a shelf a relic of my childhood.

Nutcracker men big and small.

Uncanny and whimsical sold at a late season discount.

The large ones always scared me no matter the location.

The small ones a more sensitive place in my heart.

Small enough to hold close and dream with.

***

I used to believe mine could come alive while I slept.

Secretly a prince like in the old fairytale.

That he would keep me safe from harm.

Protected from what lurked in the dark.

Someone I could trust with all my heart.

I slept better at night.

***

I would provide the same amount of care during the day.

Keeping him clean and feeding him pieces of cashew as a treat.

Of course I always ate them after, but it was the attempt that counted.

I was only doing what he might have done for me in my own way.

The poor cursed thing could never talk back after all.

It did not matter how often in a hushed voice I begged him to whisper back.

***

Putting him away at the end of the season was always the hardest part.

I have always been bad at goodbyes.

Forced to relinquish a fantasy.

Safety blanket packed away.

Knowing deep down that it might not work again the next time.

Belief dispelled along with the thoughts of Santa.

***

The spell was eventually broken.

Nutcracker donated amongst the other relics of the past.

Symbols of a different time when I thought very different things.

When I dreamt of magic and hidden princes.

But whenever I see a nutcracker at the store, I will still remember one thing.

Those times when my toys could come to life.