When we were young, we would always nag our Dad to bring home multicoloured chalk. Always. And more often than not, we would be greeted by a “oh non, j’ai complement oublie!”. So he taught us a magic trick.

We were to think of him really really hard during recess. And he meant REALLY hard. And if we really thought of him hard enough, he would automatically think of us and that would remind him to bring the coloured chalk. I was fascinated. Just think, and that’s it?

And so I took it as a personal challenge to have thoughts only for my Dad for a few minutes during recess whenever I wanted coloured chalk. And boy did it make my day if he came back home with coloured chalk. For a while I was actually convinced I had magic powers!

The power of thoughts, eh? Of course, as I grew up I became exposed to heaps of literature documenting what subconsciously I still refer to as “Dad’s magic trick”. But nothing ever came close to  explaining that strong faith, that unshakeable belief which that little primary girl in the blue school uniform once had.

Dad’s magic trick saw me through numerous situations over the years. Some petty and selfish, I admit. Others, well, less petty and selfish.

But thing is, I’m still waiting for an important box of coloured chalk. Maybe it’s time I up on the faith.


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