May the Fourth, and the Joy I Never Outgrew

My mom loved telling the story of the first time she took me to see Star Wars.

It was at a drive in movie. I was a toddler, restless and moving around in the back seat, apparently uninterested in whatever was happening on the screen. She said I could not sit still, would not focus, was too busy being everywhere at once.

Until Harrison Ford came on screen.

According to her, I stopped moving completely. I became still and fixated, eyes locked on the screen. She would laugh when she told it, like it was some early clue about who I would become.

Honestly, she was not wrong.

Star Wars was never a phase for me. It was part of my growing up. I had the action figures, the Millennium Falcon case, the bedding, the cup and the plate. It lived in my room, my imagination, and my sense of comfort.

R2 D2 has always had my heart. Chewbacca too. Loyal, steady, quietly brave. And Princess Leia was, and still is, my favorite Disney princess, which remains one of my favorite jokes since the Disney buyout. I stand by it.

I loved the story, the characters, the idea that courage could look like loyalty, that hope could survive in dark places, that found family mattered just as much as the one you were born into.

Of course, I was made fun of for it.

I was called a nerd. Told it was weird. Told I should like something else, something more acceptable, something less me.

But I have always loved what I loved.

Even then, I walked to the beat of my own drum, even if I did not have language for that yet. I did not need permission to enjoy something deeply. I just did.

Midlife has brought me back to that version of myself in a quiet way. The girl who did not overthink joy. Who did not edit her interests to fit someone else’s expectations. Who did not apologize for enthusiasm.

Somewhere along the way, we are taught to soften our joy. To make it smaller. To trade wonder for practicality. To believe that loving something openly is childish or unserious.

I do not believe that anymore.

Loving what lights you up is not immature. It is grounding. It is honest. It is a reminder of who you were before the world started offering opinions about what was acceptable.

Star Wars still lights me up. And so does the realization that I never really outgrew the things that mattered to me. I just learned how to carry them more quietly for a while.

So yes, May the Fourth be with you.

And with whatever joy you never outgrew, even if someone once told you that you should have.

With Love and Lightsabers in Mabank,
Brandy

What is something you never outgrew that still brings you joy? I’d love to hear it in the comments.