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作者在父亲的影响下从小就喜欢写作，但父亲突患重病，生命垂危，生活的剧变使作者失去了创作的热情。为了使作者重新拿起笔来，父亲与作者进行了一场谈话。父女之间的深情让作者重燃创作之火。
I had always thought of my dad as a magician. His stylus（触笔） was his wand， and with it， he would create the wildest of creatures from his mind. He brought my childhood friends to life and drew great heroes from his tablet. It wasnt long before he put a pen into my own hands and told me to create my own stories， though mine were written. The world was a big place， but my dad made it bigger.
Cancer caught up to him. His arms and legs grew thinner and thinner， and he looked about the size of a child. I refused to take any of it. It was too soon—too sudden.
The truth refused to be ignored when one morning， my mother had to break the news. My dad has only three months to live. He is going to lose his job and possibly never walk again. That day， I could not bring myself to go to my first class.
Everything came to a halt. I put my pen down and never picked it back up. Until one day， my dad sat me down. I dreaded having to talk to him. I couldnt bear to look him in the eye. What was possibly there to say to a dying man？
I had always thought of my dad as a magician. His stylus（触笔） was his wand， and with it， he would create the wildest of creatures from his mind. He brought my childhood friends to life and drew great heroes from his tablet. It wasnt long before he put a pen into my own hands and told me to create my own stories， though mine were written. The world was a big place， but my dad made it bigger.
Cancer caught up to him. His arms and legs grew thinner and thinner， and he looked about the size of a child. I refused to take any of it. It was too soon—too sudden.
The truth refused to be ignored when one morning， my mother had to break the news. My dad has only three months to live. He is going to lose his job and possibly never walk again. That day， I could not bring myself to go to my first class.
Everything came to a halt. I put my pen down and never picked it back up. Until one day， my dad sat me down. I dreaded having to talk to him. I couldnt bear to look him in the eye. What was possibly there to say to a dying man？