I don’t believe in magic… for the most part.
Every magic trick I have ever seen can be explained away, either by some kind of gimmicked prop or sleight of hand.
With one exception: the magic of a mother’s purse. I haven’t been able to figure that one out yet.
The first time I ever saw it performed was by my mother, many years ago.
It was as if she knew anytime I was really struggling financially. My parents would come to visit often, and as they were leaving she would, often, turn around and reach her hand out as if she was shaking my hand.
There would always be a little bit of money in her hand to pass to me, like I was the bouncer at a club she was trying to get into without waiting.
It was never much money, but I know what she made and I know what they had. In that sense, it was a lot of money. It was probably all the cash she had on her, and it was always very much-needed and appreciated.
She has performed this trick many times over the years.
I thought it was just maybe my mom was magic until I witnessed it being performed by another illusionist.
The beginning of this year has seen both my wife and my son start new jobs. While both jobs are better than their last, neither has drawn their first paycheck yet. This puts us in a bit of a temporary crunch.
I try to make sure my son has gas money, haircut money and maybe a little “going out to lunch with his friends” money.
I’ll ask him how much he needs us to put in his bank account and he will always reply with some form of, “Well, Mom gave me six bucks this morning,” or some other various amount.
It’s never much, but I know what she makes and I know what she has. It’s a lot. It’s probably all the cash she has on her.
I don’t know if they just sense their child needs a little cash to get through the day and say “abracadabra” before reaching their hand in their purse or not.
But I can think of no other possible explanation than mothers have magic purses.
This all reminds me of a cartoon I saw on the internet the other day. It was a drawing of an older lady lying in a hospital bed. Beside her, in a chair, was a younger man sleeping, presumably her son.
She was reaching over from her bed, with all the life-saving contraptions she was attached to, stretched as far as they could go, covering him up with a blanket.
There is magic in a mother’s love. There will always be a dollar or two in their purse, or one extra inch in their hospital hoses to make sure they can reach out to help their baby.
I can’t explain it, it’s magic. But one thing I will forever share with my children is the extreme luck we drew when it came to who we call mom… or “Ma,” as the case may be.
Toby Nix is a local writer, guitarist and deputy sheriff. He can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org