This meek little child suddenly stood up straight with an aura of confidence and held her hand out for me to see once again; the pebble was centered in her palm. She closed her fingers tightly around it, making sure I knew it was tucked in her right hand.
She then began waving both her of hands and arms with a flourish as she chanted her magic words; it was mostly unintelligible, but I'm certain abracadabra and hocus-pocus were in there somewhere. I was completely entranced by the instantaneous change in her expression and body language. I suppose you could say Elyse truly had me spellbound!
Well, we all know how this goes, right? She transferred the little rock from her right hand to her left and then tucked that hand behind her back before she showed me her empty right hand. I was appropriately amazed and gasped, "It’s gone! You made the rock disappear! How'd you do that?" Santa also expressed his amazement over the feat of magic. She stood tall, and while it escaped my notice at the time, she had slipped both her hands behind her back for an instant.
What happened next totally caught me off guard, because I mistakenly believed the trick was over. This precious little enchantress leaned forward and her right hand shot out from behind her back toward the side of my head and … voila! She showed me that she had pulled the pebble out of my ear.
Mrs. Claus clasped her hand over her ear, and with widened eyes exclaimed, "You pulled that rock out of my ear! I didn't even know it was there." Elyse nodded proudly. "Santa, did you know there was a rock in my ear?"
"No, I didn't see a rock in your ear," Santa replied, with due astonishment.
"How did it get there? You really do know magic," Mrs. Claus proclaimed.
Elyse the Magician climbed down and we waved goodbye to her and her father. They had provided an experience I would treasure in my memories. I decided I would write this story down so I wouldn't forget the joy I felt, but what I didn't realize was … the story wasn't over.
I had been sitting at my desk and typing this very essay, believing I was close to being finished when the doorbell rang. A former co-worker always drops by to hand-deliver her Christmas card and visit for a while. It gives us the opportunity to catch up on how our year has gone.
"Make yourself comfortable. Just let me save a file on the computer and I'll be right back," I explained as I left the room momentarily. When I returned, I told her I had been writing about an experience we'd had as Santa and Mrs. Claus.
"Oh! I wanted to ask you something about that," Penny responded, "There's a DJ at a radio station I always listen to and he likes to tell stories about what he did over the weekend. He said he took his little girl to the nursery to see Santa this year and that she's always been too afraid. But this year was the first time she sat with him.”
"Yes, we see a lot of bashful children. They go through stages and many aren't used to seeing a lot of facial hair."
"What I was wondering about was that he said that Mrs. Claus sang to his daughter to help make her feel comfortable. I know he probably embellishes his stories sometimes, and I didn't think that could be true, because I've never, in all the years I’ve known you, heard you sing." As a story-teller, I know all about embellishing and creative license, but Penny had a surprise coming.
I started laughing and shared, "He talked about Mrs. Claus on the radio? Well, you've never heard me because I can't sing worth a hoot. But, yes, Mrs. Claus actually did sing. 'Jingle Bells' is something even I can handle if I just talk my way through it melodiously." I explained that I had tried the idea, successfully, on a little girl. Since it worked I had used it a couple more times.
Penny, who can sing and is known in small circles for writing humorous parodies to existing songs, was stunned. She began describing the DJ and his daughter to me, but several days had passed and after seeing so many people my recollection was foggy.
Instead, I started to tell her my story about the little girl and her magic trick. Penny now stared at me in disbelief and said, "That's Elyse! Her father is the DJ. I've seen a video he posted on Facebook with her doing that with a quarter." Penny grabbed her phone and located a photo on Facebook to show me Elyse and her Dad. The fog in my head cleared and I recognized that curly hair and those beautiful, dark brown eyes. She had, in fact, been the first victim of Mrs. Claus singing 'Jingle Bells'.
Over the years Penny and I have come to refer to these experiences as 'Small World Stories'. Our lives appear to be permanently entwined somehow, and I’m grateful for that. It also did my heart good to see a father show so much patience at a hectic time of the year; it gives me hope. And for a few moments, Elyse the Magician's sleight of hand made all the heartaches in the world disappear and turned it into the sound of laughter … which was tucked away, hidden inside my ear all along.
©2017 Roberta McReynolds for SeniorWomen.com
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