“Perfect.” My pirate fairy theme really came together, and I know I look good in my red-white-and-black-striped costume, especially the dozens of shredded ribbons sewn to my sleeves. I’ve threaded black and silver ribbons into my spokes and hung a little Jolly Roger down the back of my chair.

I adjust a loose ribbon and realize Dad’s looking at me funny. “I forget an earring?” I reach up to check the little dangling skulls.

“What? No.” Dad shakes his head like he’s clearing cobwebs. “You … look a lot like your mom right now.”

I remember Mom’s old costumes, hanging in the bedroom closet that’s all Dad’s now. It’s no secret where I got my love of dressing up. Dad looks about to say something else but then quickly goes to the fridge to get some water bottles to bring. Then we go pick up Ale and Tina.

Tina’s got a dark fairy vibe, black dress and fingernails and tiny silver wings. Ale’s bee fairy costume looks incredible—she’s added yellow tulle to the skirt to make it extra full and has tights with a gold honeycomb pattern and delicate gold antennae. We admire each other’s looks and pick on Dad’s sorry old chainsaw chaps, but when we get there and park in the big hayfield that’s doubling as a parking area, he surprises us by pulling a brown-and-green tunic thing from a bag stashed behind his seat.

“You’re not the only one who shops online,” he says, laughing at my surprise as he pulls it on.

The festival grounds are in the woods, down a long hill from the parking field. As we step into the shade of the trees, the temperature drops, and the colored ribbons shivering in the trees above us make everything feel magical. Must have rained recently, because the steep, narrow path is full of thick, red-clay mud that the sun hasn’t quite reached. It quickly starts bogging down my wheels. Dad and I are used to this, so he scoops me up, leaving Ale and Tina to fold my chair and carry it down.

“I don’t know, Emms,” he jokes as he steps carefully through the mud and the rest of the costumed crowd. “You better not grow any more, or your old dad might keel over.” When we get down the hill and clear of the mud, I reclaim my wheels, and we head through the entrance arch.

The Fairy Festival is like a ren faire, a comic con, and a music fest mashed into one. People pretty much wear whatever they want, with a loose fairy-ish/medieval theme, and spend the day pretending they’re in a different world than this one. We mingle with pirates and fairies, goblins and trolls, performers walking on sky-high stilts, and people dressed as woodland sprites hiding along paths and peering at us through colored crystals held up to their eyes. Once he’s satisfied the paths down here are dry enough not to sink my chair and there’s a bathroom I can get into, Dad ducks off on his own, reminding us to meet him at the music stage in two hours.