my hopeless romanticism resurfaces.

It all began with the search for toilet paper. My past came whooshing back so fast I felt my hair rustle.
In the closet of the ground floor toilet, it sat upon the shelf. Anne of Green Gables on VHS. It wasn't until I had lovingly pushed it into the VCR that I remembered exactly how much I loved it.
The first strains of The Lady of Shallot hit my ear and I joined in for the bit I know:

There she weaves by night and day
A magic web with colours gay.
She has heard a whisper say,
A curse is on her if she stay
To look down to Camelot.
She knows not what the curse may be,
And so she weaveth steadily,
And little other care hath she,
The Lady of Shalott.

The story of Anne Shirley unfolded just as beautifully as I'd memorised so long ago. There was Avonlea with all its scope for the imagination, all the lovely characters, and, of course, Anne.
I have found that re-watching my favourite films, particularly those whose main character(s) I identified strongly with, has made for a fascinating glimpse of the changes in my life. For example, I always considered myself Marianne Dashwood of Sense and Sensibility (Kate Winslet's portrayal) and COULD NOT identify with Eleanor. She was stuffy. Marianne, on the other hand, knew how to fly. She could run down the hillside chasing blue sky and if it was raining, all the better. To die for love, what could be more glorious? Emotions are meant to be experienced and obvious. The "unfeeling," such as Eleanor, must lead such heartless lives.
Anne, too, shares in Marianne's soaring. To be lost in poetry, to dance and spin about on tiptoe whilst the sun melts into the ocean, to savour simple longing. To make everything more beautiful, according to one's own ability.
I was Anne. I was Marianne. I am Elizabeth Anne.
And now I am Anne, Marilla and Matthew. I am Marianne and Eleanor. The hopeless romanticism will not die, I wonder if it possibly could. No, but now I understand more of the balance. Whereas there are adventures to be had - flitting up waterfalls, singing into the waves after sunset, kissing the stars - there are new joys. Despite the heavy pack, singing in the pouring rain, mingling raindrops with tears. Walking away from a desire that will never be, only to feel the tender caressing of my heart by the One who knows what I am, what I need, and what I will become. The releasing, the receiving; the pain, the beauty. In so many ways, things are more beautiful than ever before.
The movie holds new relevance for me today; there is a blossoming from whimsical to wise. And the adventures only get better.

"Remember your Creator in the days of your youth, before the days of trouble come and the years approach when you will say, "I find no pleasure in them"... eccl. 12:1