All I knew was that my heart longed for Narnia like it never had for something else.  When I closed my eyes, I could see the towering mountains on each side of the White Witch’s house and smell smoke rolling gently out of Mr. and Mrs. Beaver’s chimney.  In each clap of thunder, I heard Aslan’s roar.  When I read the dialogue, I pictured myself just off the page, listening to the beautiful monologues and hearing the laughter float on the breeze.  

It is so easy for me to get lost in the wild woods of nostalgia. To get caught up in the fact that it’s over. Try as I might, I’ll never have another childhood, elementary best friend, or first college roommate. Time will do what God designed it to do: move on. But isn’t that the point? To evolve into a new creature, like a snake shedding old skin, is what we were made for. We are an always learning species that live and breathes to change. Maybe nostalgia is a gift, not a curse, as I had thought. After all, God gave me the breath to rise this morning, so there still must be more to learn.