Passing on the magic
As I returned to the parking garage after dropping off a friend at the airport early one morning, I had to cross the street and go through a large set of sliding glass doors.
I have developed the habit of waving my hand in front of me like Dumbledore in a Harry Potter movie when I approach automatic doors with the pretense I’m responsible for them opening. My kids have grown tired of this gesture and think it’s lame but I can’t seem to stop, whether it is to annoy them or it has become a silly almost involuntary habit, I’m not sure.
On this particular morning as I was walking toward the doors, I noticed this little boy on the other side, standing about three to four feet away from his mom, who was bent over fumbling around with her luggage. He was watching me intently like kids sometimes do.
I waved my hand like a wizard would and the door opened as if by magic. His eyes grew really big and he gasped. I immediately put my forefinger up to my lips and whispered “shhhhh” as I winked. He put his hand to his mouth quickly showing me he knew we were supposed to share this little secret of my magic.
I slipped into the open elevator and was gone in a few seconds — this time the magic was the elevator’s as it whisked me away.
He will eventually tell his mom about the “magic man” at the airport and she will tell him to quit being silly. She will show him that the door opens up for anyone, not just a mysterious magic man with a graying beard dressed in a long black coat. I hope he doesn’t tell her for a while.
Until he does, he and I will share the secret that magic still exists in the most unlikely places and happens when you least expect it.
I’m kicking myself for not posting this up earlier, drafting on the release of Harry Potter and the Cursed Child. Oh, well. Next time.
