I’ll keep this short.
I’m 18, and watching “Bridge to Terabithia” dredged up a regret from my not-at-all distant youth. I read about Narnia with rapture and yes I do occasionally check wardrobes. I went through school with Harry always hoping to get a delayed owl inviting me into the wizarding world. Oh and I’ve waited 8 years for a long lost or mysterious uncle to emerge out of the night bringing a story of my true heritage and an invitation, no, request, for me to come to the aid of a dimension blighted by some form of malevolence. But, alas no such call to heroism came. Still even now at 18, past the prime years for worlds of fantasy (heck, at 18 you can’t return to Narnia until you die), I find slight hope in the cool analysis of the collective unconscious presented in the work of Joseph Campbell. The myths will always live on in me and I look forward to fostering them for my children and if I’m lucky other children too. It’s a small relief that there will be another generation with another promising 18 years of fantastic opportunity, and perhaps my art can inspire fanciful bouts of imagination in them.
Still, adulthood sucks.
