The Gift of Magik

My prodigal daughter is coming home for Christmas, and I will be meeting my granddaughter for the first time. My only child and I haven’t been on speaking terms for more than five years, from the time she dropped out of high school and went on the road with a rapper boy band. A teenage gypsy rebel from Atlanta had destroyed what remained of my family after my wife died in cancerous agony when Lauren was fifteen.

Now the rapper is out of my daughter's life. The stars had lost their shine, and she wanted to come home for Christmas. I poured two fingers of whiskey, placed two chunks of oak wood on the fire, settled in my chair with the tumbler in hand, and waited.

A soft rapping sound woke me with an electric start. My eyes flew to the wall clock. Nine P.M. I'd been dozing for an hour in my chair next to an empty tumbler.­ I got to my feet and opened the door.

“Merry Christmas, Dad!” my daughter said.

She was holding the hand of a child bundled in a red jacket with a hood, a child almost as wide as she was tall. The big-eyed girl was clutching two dolls under her chin with her free hand.

“You’re late,” I said to Lauren.

“Sorry. Bad traffic, but I told you it’d be after dark." Her tone softened. "Can we come in?”

“Huh? Oh, of course. Pardon my manners. I don’t get much company these days, and a man gets out of practice.”

Lauren led her daughter into the warm home, the magical world of her childhood, and took off the child’s jacket and mittens.

“And who might this be?”

“Dad, this is Magik. Magik, this is your grandfather.”

The child leaned against her mother's leg with her dark eyes locked and loaded on me.

“Did you name her after the old basketball player?”

Lauren hung up the child's outerwear and took off her parka. “No. It’s spelled with a K instead of a C. Magik Laura.”

"Oh, you gave her your mother's name. That's wonderful. Well, don't just stand there. Come warm up by the fire.”

“Don’t I get a hug or anything?”

“You want a hug? Of course you can have a hug. Like I said, a man gets out of practice.”

I stepped forward and pulled her to a hug.

She whispered on my chest, “Please . . . let’s not fight tonight.”

The little girl had wandered over to the fireplace with her dolls. Lauren sat on the couch, and I returned to my chair. Majik was sitting on the braided oval rug, with her dolls facing the flames The progressing silence made the crackling fire sound like exploding ladyfingers on the Fourth of July.

“How have you been, Dad?”

“Right as rain. I’m fine and dandy for an old fisherman. So tell me something.” I leaned forward and glanced at Magik who was watching the flames with the dolls in her lap. “Is she white or black?”

“What?!”

I leaned back suddenly with my hands up in surrender. “In the eyes of the law, is she considered white or black? Obama had a black father and a white mother, but he’s called our first black President.”

“Magik is mixed race.”

"And so is the President. But when have you ever heard him called our first mixed-race President?”

“She’s my daughter, and I’m hoping she can be your granddaughter.”

My hand cupped my chin. “Now that her father has flown the coop? Is that what you left out?”

“Dad, this is Christmas Eve. I don't want to fight or talk about this now.”

“Sounds like you're still sticking up for him, but what did he ever give you, other than a bleak future?”

“He gave me Magik, and I will always stand up for him. Okay?”

For a long moment, I looked into my daughter's eyes. She still had her mother's backbone and spirit. 

Magik crawled onto Lauren's lap with Raggedy Ann and Andy.

“I was just asking a question. Pay it no mind, and I won't mention it again.”

“I need to put Magik to bed, Dad.”

“Go ahead. I’m sure you remember the way to your room.”

“I’m tired, so I'm turning in, too.”

“Fine, good. It’s way past my bedtime, too. I get up early, so you might hear me puttering around at the crack of dawn.”­

“We’ll be up early, too.” Lauren stood and lifted Magik to her shoulder.

“I put clean sheets on the bed.”

“Thanks. Goodnight, Dad. We’ll see you bright and early.”

Lauren and Magik went to bed, leaving me alone again in my chair, feeling both justified and guilty at the same time. This wasn't the first time she'd come home. She would stay for two or three days and be gone again.

Surely sparked by the warmth of a throw blanket across my legs, sleep came on the heels of consciousness. It was as though I teleported to another Christmas Eve. In my dream, Lauren crawled into bed and snuggled between her mother and me. She said she was too excited to sleep.

I jumped awake when I felt my arm being tapped.

Magik was standing next to my chair in her Santa Claus pajamas, rubbing one eye with the back of a tiny fist, and holding her dolls against her chest. In that sleepy, jingle-jangle moment, all my scabby anger and frustration and loneliness dissipated like shadows before a rain. I reached for her, and she raised her arms and crawled over the arm of the chair. I pulled her onto my lap.

"What's the matter, little girl?"

“Did Santa Claus come yet, Grandpa?”

Grandpa? Grandfather. “No, not yet. Not yet. I guess it’s true what they say. Santa won’t come to a house where boys and girls are awake.”

With a prolonged sigh and arm stretch, she leaned back with her head on my chest. Her hair smelled like baby shampoo.

“I know, Grandpa. Mama told me that, but I thought if I could sleep on the couch, I would see Santa when he comes.”

“I see. You thought it all out. Well, close your eyes. You can’t sleep with ‘em open, you know.”

She pushed off my chest. “I’m glad I got to meet you, Grandpa.”

I reached over and patted her back as I nodded my head. “Why do you have two dolls, Magik?"

"So Raggedy Ann won't get lonely when I go to kindergarten next year."

"Oh, that makes sense. Lonely ain't much fun, and I'm glad to know you."

"You know what, Grandpa?"

"What?"

"I thought I'd be move nervous around you."

I held my breath as emotion erupted in my heart. "Well, there's no need for any of that."

"Dad?"

"Hey, we're down here."

Lauren trotted down the stairs and joined us in the living room and knelt by my chair.

"She'll talk your ear off, Dad."

"Well, that's why God gave us a spare. I was just telling Magik here that I'm glad I met her, and I was about to say she's been a wonderful Christmas gift.”

Magik gave me a look. "I'm a wonderful gift, Grandpa?"

I hugged my daughter's neck with my right arm and kissed the top of Magik's head.

"Little girl, you may well be the gift of magic."

The End

© Copyright 2025 Nathan B. Childs. All rights reserved.