I was fortunate enough to be read to as a child, and The Chronicles of Narnia were bedside favorites. One of my clearest memories of these times is of my mother reaching the end of The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, and hearing the tears in her voice. My ten-year-old self was taken aback that a book could do that to a grown-up. (You see, a couple years prior to this, I had snuck a flashlight underneath the covers to get through a particularly tense part of Wardrobe, only to find tears streaming down my own face.) No, it wasn't just me. Books could make anyone cry in sorrow, as well as joy. What powerful things they must be!
At the risk of sounding unbearably maudlin, I was very excited to see the trailers for both Goblet of Fire and The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe this weekend in my little apartment by the sea. Surprisingly, they made me feel closer to home. We'd gotten in the habit of waiting until Christmas Eve to see each installment of The Lord of the Rings together. This year, I'll return to the northern hemisphere for the holidays and will get to revive that tradition with another old favorite.
I've ranted a bit about some of the misguided hoopla surrounding the Narnia adaptation, but for now I'm enjoying the trailer and remembering those nights under our comfortable roof in our small Californian town.
All that to say, happy mothers' day! Thank you for those countless hours of reading, M. I know I wouldn't be quite the same person today without them. (And I love sharing Harry Potter speculations with you too!)