I need to be honest with you guys. I feel like in a big way I’ve been lying to you all, and it’s time for me to come clean. I’m sorry about all of this, but please forgive me.
I think I have stronger feels about Chronicles of Narnia than I do about Harry Potter. Now, please, hold on. Stay with me. I was raised on the Chronicles of Narnia. Maybe it’s not that my feels are stronger. Maybe it’s this. Maybe in the summer and in the winter I’m in love with Narnia. And maybe in the spring and the autumn I’m in love with Hogwarts.
Because I can’t stop thinking about Narnia lately. It’s happened with Hogwarts before, but not in the winter. In the winter I want to be surrounded by fauns and lampposts and old professors. In the summer I want it too. And I want ships and adventures and handsome princes.
In the autumn I want pumpkin juice and knitting that takes care of itself and wooden things and wands. In the spring I want all of that and to stave off evil one more year.
The truth is, though, the hard truth is that when it comes down to it I feel stronger emotional connections to Lucy and Edmund, particularly Edmund, than I ever do to Harry, Ron, or Hermione. Or even Snape. Don’t get me wrong here, because I have strong feels, and as I get old the feels get stronger. But in my head Harry Potter is this puzzle I’m still discovering new pieces too. But Narnia is the beating of my heart. With each pulse my heart murmurs “Aslan is not a tame lion.” With each breath I sigh “Even a traitor may mend.” Each pass in front of the mirror I blink “I will say the spell. I don’t care!”
The mystery of Potter plays at my brain, but the connection and time I’ve spent growing with Narnia invades my thoughts. Daily.
Raise your children on good, strong, well-written books. Always.