To this day, I don’t know how my father did it.
It was a cold winter day, my sister and I were off school due to an incoming snow storm and Charlie and the Chocolate Factory was playing on the TV. My mother had made us pop corn and the scent of hot chocolate and tea was wafting through the air. As my sister and I were throwing handfuls of popcorn at each other, trying to see who could catch the most in our mouth, my father came into the living room, telling us to sit straight with our hands on our knees, a pose he called “the well-behaved child”.
The television room scene had come on, my sister and I were talking about how much we wish we could just reach into the TV and get whatever was on it without a second thought. My father chuckled and asked us if we were sure about that, that he could make it happen if we promised to only ask him to do it once, because doing so would deplete his magical abilities greatly. My sister beamed, jumping up and down at my dad and begging him to do his trick, I was equally enthusiastic, my mom played along with my dad and told him not to over-exert himself.
I still remember it so clearly, my father extended his hand towards the TV and pulled out two chocolate bars from the screen. Obviously, my sister and I, being 3 and 5 at the time, were elated. We screamed in joy as he handed us each the bar, telling us there might be another surprise inside. When we opened our respective bars, we each found two golden tickets tucked away in the wrapping. I remember screaming in joy as I stuffed a few pieces of chocolate into my mouth, begging my dad to tell me how he did it!
He told my sister he wasn’t done with the magic just yet and instructed us to assume the well-behaved child pose or it wouldn’t work. My sister and I scurried to the couch, golden tickets in hand, eyes wide and waiting to see what my father would do next. As we waited, my mother poured us some tea, my father asked her for a kiss, citing his need to replenish his magic as an excuse. My sister and I screamed in disgust but decided it was a small price to pay to see our dad do magic.
He went to the bathroom and came back with his hands in his pockets “Are you ready? I need to be quick because my magic is a bit unstable.” Our voices echoed in the house as my sister and I yelled “YES!”
My father smiled at us, said a few magic words and pulled out a kitten that could fit into his palm out of his pocket. My sister and I rushed to his side, the kitten was so small I remember thinking she was a stuffed toy the first time I saw her. That idea quickly dissipated as she opened her eyes and miaowed, a little high-piched cry followed by purring that I’ll never forget. I loved her so much from the moment I met her. She was so tiny and fragile that I simply didn’t want to let go of her, my sister felt the same— we agreed to call her Lokum.
Now that I think back on it, the poor thing must’ve been terrified. A year after we got her, my mother revealed that Lokum hadn’t appeared out of thin air but that my parents had adopter her off of Facebook. Her mother had abandoned her and one of our neighbors had been fostering and bottle-feeding her until she was old enough to be adopted. My sister and I had been begging for a pet ever since we could talk and so, after a very long talk on whether our house was appropriate for a pet, they decided to adopt her.
This memory is truly my favorite, I still believed in magic at that age and honestly remembering the way I felt when my father pulled chocolate and my cat out of thin air makes me believe in magic all over again. The funny thing is that 15 years later, my father is still adamant about not revealing the trick and I’ve started to believe that he’s secretly a magician. I don’t think I want to know anymore, this feeling of wonder keeps me connected to my childhood and I want it to stay that way. I don’t want the kid brimming with excitement in me to disappear just yet.
© 2025 C. H. Gökdemir. All rights reserved.
Cece: Unfiltered 
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