There's a unicorn at the end of every rainbow, and to ride it one must follow the rain to the exact spot where it meets the sun. It's an oasis in a sandbox, atop a mountain and overlooking the ocean. It's where birds sing instead of chipping, where bears hibernate even during the summer, and squirrels help young girls braid their hair.
And the unicorn stands tall and majestic, living proof that everything eventually falls into place, like a reward for good behaviour and effort.
I have been that unicorn for some, and others have been it for me. But to be your own unicorn, for yourself, is a gift only you can strive for.
It was Thanksgiving in Canada yesterday, and while it's good to be humbled by where we have come as a species, to look back and be grateful for all the help we've received in our accomplishments, it's also good to keep in mind the work that still lay ahead.
Some of us are zebras, some are studs, some are ponies and many are donkeys. Becoming unicorns might require some help, a little bit of input from the outside world, but it's also work one has to do on their own.
I want to be a unicorn again. For someone else, maybe, but mostly for myself.
And, yes, someone dared me to write something with unicorns as the main subject matter. Doesn't make it any less true.