In October 2002, John and I went up to Mt. Desert Island for a long weekend. It was during the height of the DC Sniper scare, and we were thinking about getting married up there.

It was a glorious weekend, and a difficult one (anyone who has a smooth experience in planning a wedding is… well, let’s just say I can’t imagine a smooth experience in planning a wedding). I was reading Philip Pullman’s The Golden Compass on this trip, and I finished it on the flight home.

It was a Southwest flight, and we were sitting on one that had a facing row in the front (maybe they all do – I’m not wise in the ways of Southwest, whatever my other experiences with air travel are), and when I finished, the man sitting across from me remarked that I was obviously intent on the story. I could believe it. I felt like I was swimming up from a very deep dive after I turned the final page, and it had taken me some time to return to the landing plane, the reality of coming home.

This makes me hopeful that I can have the same experience in a movie theatre.