The thing I love most about stories is that it can be displayed in the most magnificent of ways and touch the inmost reaches of a person's heart. I'm taking Native American Lit this semester, and we've spent a lot of time talking about the impacts of story and storytelling, which is right up my alley.

Now I know I blog a lot about this, but I just rewatched Peter Pan after a LONG time, and...to be honest, I almost cried when I started it because I missed it so much. Growing up, it's always been one of my favorite stories, and when the 2003 version came out, it became my favorite movie. But it's also movies and stories like this that makes me sad. Because in these stories, I know that reality is not the same. No matter how old I grow, there's always a craving in me for adventure, for sword fights and magic and fairies and flying. I feel like my dreams are so much bigger than anything I'm doing right now...but also bigger than anything that this world could possibly give me. Do you think I can have those adventures in heaven?

Revisiting Neverland will always be an adventure. Every time, after that's through, I feel like Peter and Wendy in the last scene of the movie where they know that it was time to say goodbye.