As I mentioned in my posting earlier this evening, I attempted to watch The Time Traveler’s Wife tonight. It is and will always be my favorite novel. Not only is it a beautiful story, but it really hits home with me. I’m sure I’ll share more about that in future posts, but let’s just say that I typically feel like Claire waiting for my Henry to reappear.
I’m almost embarrassed to say that I couldn’t make it past the first 15-20 minutes of the movie. Now personally I think the novel is much better than the movie, but the story still appeals to me no matter what form it’s in. Tonight I just couldn’t seem to concentrate enough to enjoy it. Every line evoked a memory of my own Claire & Henry story. Reading and/or watching this story both helps and hurts. It’s comforting because I can escape from reality and believe that this fantasy love exists; and then I have the moments when I cannot help but empathize with Claire as she waits, and waits, and waits…
So many lines in the novel speak to me and touch my heart, but this one about waiting speaks volumes to me:
“I wait for him. Each moment that I wait feels like a year, an eternity. Each moment is as slow and transparent as glass. Through each moment I can see infinite moments lined up, waiting. Why has he gone where I cannot follow?”
More tomorrow as I try again to watch the movie. Take 2.