Magic

 

Back when we had real phones, our family got a call from someone very special.

I said hello and a young man responded. He was calling with exciting news.

Our family had just won an all-expense-paid vacation to Disney World.

I looked around for my sister. I thought I would scream.

I could only say, “We did?!”

I was starting to shake.

Amazed by my good-news friend on the line, I could only ask, “When do we go?!”

He said the only thing he needed to do, before he could answer that, was talk to a parent.

I told him our mom was at work; our dad had left us. I said this was amazing; I told him we never got to go anywhere.

He said he’d call back later.

I called my mom at work and was almost crying with happiness. Disney was magical, unreachable. And we had won!

The man never called back.

I’ve wondered about him over the years, recalled our conversation in my mind,  played out his response to the honest transparency of my joy.

A young man, phone salesman of the Eighties, destroyer of children’s dreams.

I’d like to think he found a better job. And a soul.

 

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