Magic
She heard the car pull into the driveway; she knew the sound like she knew how to breathe. Dolls and make believe dropped like hot potatoes as she slipped and slid in her stocking feet along the linoleum, careening through the hallway and living room to the front door and out. Even Mommy’s admonitions about not ruining her new white socks were but faint buzzings, background sounds. Daddy! She threw herself into his arms and he gathered her to him, lifting and hugging at the same time. His outdoors in the cold smell, his slightly scratchy whiskered cheeks grazing hers. This was what she waited for every day. And today even more so since he had been gone for a whole week. “Did you bring me a present?” He gave her that smile, a twinkling hint that, well, maybe he did have something. It was the game, the ritual that was as delightful as whatever was held in the mysterious interior of the brown leather brief case he always carried. When he did finally bring out the gift, the kaleidoscope, she was mesmerized by the colors, the sparkles, the way the light and the slightest movement changed the bits of glass.
She doesn’t remember, now, whatever happened to the magical souvenir. She did keep all her treasures for years and years, though. A Steiff dog, a ballerina charm bracelet, an autographed photo of a famous astronaut her daddy had known, the wondrous tube of brightly colored glass. And the memories. She has always kept the memories.
Photo provided by Tess Kinkaid. Check out the great writing at
Magpie Tales!
