I can’t expect you to believe this story. No one back home did either when they heard there was magic happening on a street corner in East Texas.

When word got around that an old man was selling miniature dolls made to look like people walking by, there was plenty of doubters. There was talk of copyright violation, privacy violation and general discomfort with the whole idea of someone making a model of a person without permission.

People called him eccentric, creepy and even a criminal… until they saw his roadside display in person. Some lucky people would stop and stare in shock with feelings that can’t quite be wrapped up words. They’d lean in close to look for some reason some clue that they were not seeing a what they were seeing. A beautifully crafted version of themselves. It isn’t right to call the dolls life-like since the old man’s creations seem to have more life and joy than the people they portrayed. I’d seen grown ups start to cry and reach out their hands like a child in a toy store when they saw a better reflection of themselves. Not everyone who had an encounter with the old man was so moved, but certainly everyone was shaken.

I had my moment in 1999. I was working at a Goodwill that summer and one day I heard a woman scream in the parking lot. I looked out and saw one of the regular charity “customers” with her hands over her mouth and shaking. I’d like to tell you that I rushed out to help but I stayed inside staring at her. After a few seconds I realized she was overjoyed not terrified and I watched as she talked to the old man then with trembling hands she picked up something and clutched it close to her chest and smiled with her face up toward the sun.

I watched her as she crossed the parking lot and and came into the store. I avoided eye contact but was determined to see what she had picked up outside. As she passed I saw she was holding a figurine of a woman. A little over a foot tall and nicely dressed with intricate details in the face and skin. I couldn’t pull away from my stare – the eyes were so bright and captivating that it took me a moment to recognize that it was a doll of the woman holding it. Not an exact replica though, this doll was beautifully put together and the facial expression was frozen in a look of pride and confidence. I’d known the lady to be a perpetual victim of the system. She’d given up on any ambition and spent her days walking around our store and begging for change from people who drove up to donate.

“Why would that guy make a doll based on her?”

For the next few weekends he’d be out there. Crowds would gather to watch someone find their “mini-me” and they’d applaud and then scatter. I stayed behind the safety of the storefront until curiosity forced me outside one Saturday. I steadied myself as I walked up from behind him, taking a deep breath as his display came into view. I was sure I’d come face to face with myself. But I wasn’t there.

I didn’t know what to say in that moment. I was relieved on some level, disappointed on another and to fill the awkwardness I wanted to say something…

“Hey, buddy, how much do you charge to make one of these?”

… I admit that question was going to be my opening line but I didn’t have a chance to ask it because a guy driving by had pulled his Lexus up to the curb and shouted it. I could tell he was in a rush not only because he was a traffic hazard but by the tone of his question. I looked back at the old man and was surprised to see him staring straight at me as he answered the question:

“You can’t afford it.”

The driver let out a surprised cough then continued his call and walked away. I broke the old man’s eye contact and went back to work with a heavy heart.

The worst part of my job was working the donation door. All day we’d get bags of clothes, bikes, bookshelves and it was a lot of work. What made that task so depressing were the people would drop off trash and treat it as a donation. It made me angry that people would leave thinking they were better people for giving us broken toys. I’d have to go through the boxes and sort out what we could sell versus what was a total loss. At the end of the day I’d carry a box out back to the dumpster and throw away everything that didn’t make the cut.

This particular day we’d gotten a particularly bad drop-off. Several boxes that had to be opened and sorted. It took hours and it was well after sundown before I got to the box labeled “GARBAGE” that had been scribbled through then “GOODWILL” written below it. “Good save!” I muttered.

I opened the box and felt the world I knew it collapse upon itself. Sitting on top was a shirt I recognized. I’d given it as a gift to a friend. A girl. A girl I loved. She’d left town a month before and I never got up the nerve to tell her how I felt but I made her the world’s most romantic going away gift. First, the custom made t-shirt with our inside joke on it. Then, wrapped in that shirt, was a cd of me pouring my heart out to her in song. The entire gift was wrapped in a map of Texas so she could find her way home. I could picture her making a u-turn on the highway listening to the cd and rushing back to be with me. But now the tshirt and cd were sitting in front of me in a box. The map of Texas crumpled up and used as packing material. There was not going to be a happy ending.

I kicked open the back door with my hands full of garbage and my eyes full of tears. As I got to the dumpster, I was startled to see two legs dangling down from the edge. I dropped the box and took a step back. The old man pulled his head up and hopped down with his arms full. He had a smile on his face and seemed genuinely pleased to see me. I smiled back without thinking and he approached me and dropped his scraps into the box and picked it up.

“Thank you” he said intensely with a warmth I could feel in my chest. He turned to go but for the first time I spoke.

“Those…those are broken. You could come inside and get some of our good stuff.”

“No, I need them to be broken. It’s the only way I can rebuild them.”

The next afternoon I saw him setting up his station and noticed some of the same fabrics and colors I’d taken to the trash now on display. I had to go see what he’d been able to do with what I assumed was unusable. I walked out and approached calling out, “You’re a little late today!”

“You’re just on time,” he replied.

His words hit me just as I saw his display. There was only one figurine set out and I couldn’t grasp what I was seeing. Pieces of a map folded stylishly into shoes. A hat made from recycled t-shirt fabric. It was sort of me. It was a better me. It was all my hope for the future and all my fondness for the past and it spoke to me on a level that I still don’t fully understand. But it wouldn’t be right to say this doll was like me. I wanted to be like this doll.

I knew I had to have it in my life, but he’d told me I couldn’t afford it. I was standing on a street corner with tears in my eyes but I ran out of the reasons to care about that or feel self conscious. With all the confidence of a beggar I asked, “May I please have this?”

He laughed and placed it in my outstretched hands saying, “…and ye shall receive!”

I believe in magic. I’ve seen it and it’s changed me. I can’t expect you to believe it until you find yourself too.