Once Upon a Wardrobe

by Patti Callahan Henry

He reaches for his sister’s hand. “It’s okay, Megs. It’s part of the story. There’s lots of parts to a story.”

George wants to consider it all. He longs to climb inside the wardrobe and watch the story come together just as it happened. He doesn’t want to change the author’s life; he wants to watch it turn into something new, something with snow, a white witch, and a lion that calls to George even in his sleep, its roar far off and deep, both comforting and terrifying.

I’d believed—fool that I was—that because I knew this end was coming, I was prepared, that I would not grieve as I had. As if one can pre-grieve and get it out of the way. It’s not true. Grief is the price I paid for loving fiercely, and that was okay, because there was no other choice but to love fiercely and fully.