Each tear falls like broken dreams; filled with possibility as it falls towards the ground.

Most people have heard that when a baby first laughs, that laugh becomes a fairy. Isn't it poetic, then, that their first tear is what takes that magic away from them? Babies can't shed them when they're first born, and it's that fact that gives magic a chance in the first place.

It's slim, but it's there.

Most people have heard the story about fairies, but precious few believe it. Few know the origin and end of magic in our lives. It's never completely gone, but enough of it is to make a difference.

Crying is healthy. Shedding tears is an excellent way to cope. But at what cost? Most people, once they reach a certain age, don't remember the magic they once held in their hands. Life is hard, and most people shed many tears. To keep the magic, you must find other ways of dealing with sadness, with stress, with the terrors in this world. There are many.

Is it worth it?

Perhaps. It depends on whom you ask. But when you use it to bring magic back into someone else's life, if even for just a moment, it is.

We are the magic-keepers, and we walk a hard road. Each parent must teach their child to never cry. Never shed a tear, or lose it all. Losing it can mean losing the belief, and an entire line can be lost in a moment. We must be careful, then, to never be too hard or too soft, or we risk losing everything.

Some choose traditional means to pass down the knowledge. Teaching spells and telling the child outright to never cry. It works.

I, however, am also a magician, and we're known for keeping secrets. Teach a little here-and-there, but keep it to things that can be excused as a trick of light and explained with "A magician never reveals their secrets." It's still magic. What I teach is still real, and not all of it can be learned by everyone.

How, then, do I keep my son from crying? Simple.

I taught him to never forget his poker face.