My mom loves to tell the story about the first time I ever saw Star Wars.
“He was 6 years old,” she tells anyone within earshot. “Barely able to see over the seat in front of him, grasping a popcorn in one hand, soda in the other. It was the only time I ever let him drink soda,” she lies to assuage any doubts about her parenting abilities.
“Then the words come up, the ones that disappear into space. And the John Williams music. Joshua’s mouth drops open. He then clutched the popcorn and soda and didn’t touch them for the next two hours. He was lost in another world.”