I was walking to pick up this afternoon with a good friend and her amazing six year old son. She recalled a conversation they had just before I joined them. The subject was Harry Potter.
Mom: “Do you know how the story ends?”
Son: “Sure. Lord Voldemort dies.”
Mom: “How do you know that? We’re nowhere near the end.”
Son: “Because all stories have a happy ending.”
And maybe this is yet another reason why I love books. Because through books, our little ones can stay innocent just a little while longer.
A neighbor lost her husband this week, unexpectedly and young. While I didn’t know this woman, I saw her walking her dog each day and we exchanged neighborly greetings. I know that she has traveled the same path that I am traveling now with children not many years older than mine. Her husband was active in our elementary school’s Dads’ Night as Rob is. Her husband coached his kid’s teams as Rob does. Her husband’s picture is posted all over Facebook enjoying vacations and family dinners as Rob’s is. I can not help but put myself into her shoes.
While her ultimate story may some day have a happy ending, her story now is anything but happy.
If only my walking companion’s take on literature truly did extend to life. If only, all stories had happy endings…
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