holiday magic: it's real

Yesterday, I'm quite serious, the full magical force of the holiday season was in effect.  Here's how I know.

First of all, I was able to contend with crowds, parking lots, and Trader Joe's on the third shopping day before Christmas without losing my cool for one second.  Not for one second.  Instead I spent the whole time smiling at strangers. Now that's some serious magic.  

Second, there was the moment I walked out of PetCo with a bag of presents for Mr Burns and wondered at all the other adults lined up at the edge of the sidewalk, some with phones, faces tilted to the sky. Then I joined them and there we were, all of us, like kids, staring up at a huge rainbow, delighted.

But third and BEST of all, very very best, was that the holiday party I attended last night included a strolling Magician.  A Magician! 

The great thing about Christmas and rainbows and magicians is that they make marveling children of us all.  And that right there: that's magic.

Or maybe it's just me.

Because seriously last night at the party, as soon as the Magician made his presence known, I was enthralled. And he was a really good magician, Mr. Frank Balzerak.

Joe saved me numerous times, both by standing next to me and reminding me to close my mouth, which was involuntarily dropping open in disbelief and wonder repeatedly, but also by providing a way for me to escape my own inclination to follow Frank everywhere, watch the tricks over and over again. And still I couldn't keep away, couldn't get enough, and watched probably 4 times.  At least 4 times.

It's the most charming thing, a magician at a party.  I love everything about it -- the way he would walk up to little clumps of people and engage them, the funny banter he kept up. But mostly I loved this part: feeling that magical wonder inside me unfold as I watched the card tricks, the pen turning from black to red, the playing card I'd signed suddenly appearing folded up inside Frank's mouth.

What? What just happened?  How did he do that?

And the best of all, once I'd seen the tricks twice, then watching other people watch the tricks: oh my goodness, that was so much fun, to watch that delight roll over them, to see other people slack-jawed in wonder.

Also this: the way that people who'd stood watching the tricks with me early on would walk back up to me later in the evening and talk to me like we'd been friends for life.  Like we were kids.

Easy. Beautiful.

Generally when I attend a party where I just know the hosts and that only a little, I'm nervous, a little pit of dread stuck in my belly.  I am self-conscious. Maybe I shouldn't have worn the skinny jeans. Crap, what am I doing here among the Beautiful People? I could have stayed home with a book.  Last night was no exception.  Until the magic, of course.

The magic erased everything from my mind, all the doubts, all the worried little voices. I just watched the cards, laughed, watched the rope trick, laughed, watched the half-dollars magically pass from pocket to hand, laughed and clapped and jumped around.

I don't know how Frank does it. None of us assembled around him, even those of us who'd watched repeatedly, have any idea how he does it.  

Maybe it's just tricks. But maybe it's magic.

It sure looked like magic.  It sure felt like magic, to be shoulder to shoulder with people I don't even know, all of us eyes shining, laughing at the tricks, laughing at each other, making spirits bright.

I'm still happy this morning, having dipped into that childish, childlike wonder for hours last night. I have a lot to do today on the second-to-last day before Christmas, but no matter: I got magic in me now. I'll be just fine.

XX