liminality.

Picture a young, carefree girl, captivated by the magical worlds of Ariel, Aurora, and Belle, who finds in a grocery store one of the products a more jaded individual would see as the monetary-motivated marketing schemes of the corporate board of directors behind these stories.

But to this girl, the blue plastic sunglasses with a princess decal seem to offer a chance to see the world as that princess must see it. So she eagerly puts a pair on and glances quickly around for a mirror to see if the miraculous transformation has taken place.

POP! That's the sound of this girl's bubble bursting when she sees that the mirror is located approximately waist-level-- perfect height for a girl of six or seven, but ridiculously out of reach for a twenty-year-old. The girl sees no choice but to bend down on her pre-arthritic knees only to see herself looking ridiculous in a few-sizes-too-small pair of glasses.

Despondently (between fits of laughter), she heads to the register sans glasses. And spots the fireworks. Okay, so age does have its privileges (:

But the victory is temporary when weighed against the aging discussions about soon-to-be-returning missionaries and soon-to-be-married friends.

So the girl goes home feeling tired and worn, only to find a note on her pillow saying: "It's 12:30 almost. Will you come wake me up when you see this so I know you made it home? Thanks. Love, La"

There's nothing like the love and concern of a little sister to blow that bubble right back up again.