ok, i have to tell this story. so a year or two ago, i decided to tell the story of the Phantom of the Opera to a couple of my younger siblings. (they were maybe, 7 and 9?) we made it a bedtime tradition. they would all get into bed in their shared bedroom and i’d sit on a chair in the corner and pick up where we’d left off the night before. the book itself was a little past their comprehension, so instead of reading it i’d relate it, act it out sometimes, do voices, answer their questions,, made it easy to understand. it was a great time. ghost bedtime stories.
anyway, there came the night when we finally finished the story. christine and raoul had moved away from paris, and the author knew no more of them. we sat in silence a little while, then my 9yo brother, lying in bed, said slowly, “…reyna… i’m imagining when i’m older.. and i’ve got a job mowing lawns. and i’ll go out and knock on people’s doors and ask them if i can mow their lawn? …and one day i’ll knock on the door of a house, and a lady will open the door.. and i’ll say, ‘wait, are you christine daae?’ and she’ll say, ‘why yes i am, we moved here.’ and then a man that’s shorter than her will come up from behind her and say, ‘and i’m raoul daae’”
…and i was just.. trying not to laugh but these are the things he never questioned once: a) that raoul is shorter than christine, and b) when they get married he takes her last name. yes, little brother. what a perceptive imagination, it does not lie to you. good night. that was the sweetest thing you ever said.