Saturday afternoon, out of the blue, my two little ones (now aged 19 and 15, but soon to be 20 and 16 next month) gifted me with two “new” Tolkien books:
Little One, my globe-trotting, philosophy-studying 19-year-old teacher-to-be, saw the Spark Notes version of The Lord of the Rings and immediately thought of me. “Dad, now you can read the notes after each chapter so you can fully understand the story!”
Patch, my
15-year-old high school junior, returned me the paperback Hobbit. Back
in 2022, for my birthday, she gave me the “gift” of “giving the Hobbit a
go.” Provided I bought her the book. So I did, this one, and she read about a
third of it, up to the appearance of Gollum, before storing it in a
desk drawer where it remained for nearly two years. Now she returned to me, all
smiles, telling me to enjoy it.
Thanks,
girls! Will do!
So, more syzygystic
ephemera from the superaether, convincing and convicting me more and more, than
I must return to J. R. R. Tolkien. Hmm. Was going to return to Middle-earth
last January … now might have to seriously take that journey, re-take it, that
is, the sixth journey by my reckoning, on the first day of the next new year.
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