I start most days by walking in my neighborhood with my dog.

She likes the routine. I do, too.

I love to watch her sniff trees and examine discarded fast-food wrappers. In all probability, we walked past the very same locations a couple days earlier. Nothing we come across is a surprise, but when I walk with my dog, the moment feels new.

One morning this week, we passed a front yard garden situated behind a six-foot high wrought iron fence. I had lingered there before but don’t recall being so struck by a row of swan-shaped planters. Each planter contained a single red bloom.

The image made me think about fairy tales. Often relayed as bedtime stories, parents, grandparents and babysitters gave them voice before Disney streamed them into our living rooms.

Cinderella is supposed to be the most widely recognized fairy tale. The French version, Cendrillon, penned in the late seventeenth century had a lot of time to build a following.

“Beauty and the Beast,” “Snow White,” “Sleeping Beauty,” “Little Red Riding Hood” — there are so many fairy tales I recall loving as a child, and they don‘t all start “Once upon a time,” and end “And they lived happily ever after.”

In a fairy tale, goodness usually triumphs over evil, yet casualties often occur. In an early version, “The Little Mermaid” turns into sea foam at the end. In his story, Tom Thumb dies of a spider bite.

There’s also a tradition of telling fairy tales to young children as a way to impart moral instruction.

“Beauty and the Beast” reminds us to look beyond physical attributes and value internal qualities of character. In “Snow White,” we’re led to consider the joy in having purpose and community. In “Sleeping Beauty,” we’re reminded that true love can endure and even prove stronger than bad intentions.

When I looked at the swan planters, I thought about “The Ugly Duckling.” I’m sure many people can relate to the idea of not feeling they belonged to the family they were born into.

Along with positive lessons about knowing and trusting yourself, fairy tales also support what I believe to be a faulty understanding of how happiness is attained.

The genre places so much emphasis on pursuing future conditions and not enough about the joy of being present to the moment.

By thinking “if I only meet my prince,” or “kill the evil queen” or “return to the land of my ancestors,” it’s easy to lose sight of the blessings in front of you NOW.

I thought of this as I stared through the fence, simply enjoying a neighbor’s front lawn fantasy.

French poet and philosopher Paul Valery said, “The best way to make your dreams come true is to wake up.”

Understanding that happiness is not a reward for enduring hardship or a permanent “ever after” state but is to be experienced moment by moment is no small thing.

Re-printed with permission.

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