Street Magic
Golden fingers of sunlight dance across the autumnal sky. They catch on tiny water droplets that pitter-patter across the city in light rain, bringing about a scene of liquid sunshine that makes you want to believe in magic. Not a storybook magic, but real honest-to-god magic.
Perched in the window of a honey-lit cafe, sipping on the oat-milk sticky chai made for me by the gloomy barista, who is surviving on two hours of sleep and four shots of coffee, I watch as the tapestry of the world passes by. Men in business suits speak dramatically into their phones; dogs drag their owners around on leads; construction workers take a hard-earned cigarette break; At a crossing, a father shields himself from the rain with a newspaper with his right hand while protectively reaching for his daughter’s hand with his left. The daughter, dressed in an oversized yellow raincoat, takes her father’s outstretched hand as if it were second nature. He squeezes her hand tight, and they begin a silent conversation they’ve had countless times before.
Father: Don’t let go.
Daughter: I know.
As they wait for the green man to appear, they are joined by impatient crowds, always in a rush to be somewhere else. But the father knows better. He knows that nowhere else and nothing else could be more important to him than being right here in this moment, holding his daughter’s hand. The silent conversation turns into a wordless promise.
Father: I will always protect you.
Daughter: I know.
Father: Soon you’ll be too old to hold my hand.
You’ll go off on your own to do amazing things.
You’ll be happier than you could ever imagine;
and sadder than you thought you could be.
You’ll make every mistake I ever tried to stop you from making.
You’ll think you failed. You’ll give up;
then you’ll get right back up and try again;
you will be amazing.
And if you need me. I’ll be right beside you.
Daugher: I know.
The crossing light turns green, and hand in hand, they step onto the road. He guides her across the street, avoiding people and potholes. For the next next thirty seconds, he guides her as he will for the rest of his life, all while knowing that soon they’ll reach the other end, and he will need to let go. Let go of her hand; let her make the mistakes that shape her; let her get hurt and learn from it; let her find herself in the dangerous world. When they reach the other side, and she starts to pull away, he holds on for just another moment.
Daughter: You need to let go
Father: I know
Their hands part as they disappear over the horizon. The rain has stopped, and the sky has shifted to a soft blue. Real honest-to-god magic.