Do I belong there?

The long months of pandemic have us reaching for comfort in familiar movies and television shows. This is particularly true for younger daughter, whose burden of autism and anxiety is a bad match with the threat of a global virus. 

We invite younger daughter to view DVDs (yes, we still use DVDs) in the living room. It's an effective way of chivvying her out of her bedroom. 

This means we've seen all the Harry Potter films in order and reverse order, all ten seasons of Friends (reminding me how rubbishy the final four seasons were), and the various Muppets films. 

I've learnt that I still rather like The Great Muppet Caper, and that I truly loathe The Muppets Take Manhatten. The original Muppet Movie is okay; it doesn't drive me into the bedroom, or out of the house entirely. 

So, one late afternoon, I'm sitting on the couch doing Sudoku, while younger daughter is perched on the Resident Fan Boy's raised seat cushion (originally made by Demeter for the RFB's late father).  She's watching the scene where Gonzo is singing wistfully in the desert, dreaming of earlier in the day, when he was hoisted skyward by a bunch of helium balloons.

Sun rises; night falls/ Sometimes, the sky calls/ Is that a song there?/ And do I belong there?/ I've never been there, but I know the way/ I'm going to go back there some day.

I'm thinking of when I originally saw the movie in a cinema, long before the advent of my daughters.  I remember the dreaminess of it -- had I nodded off?

Then I realize that younger daughter is softly singing along.  Part heaven, part space/ Or have I found my place?/ You can just visit, but I plan to stay/ I'm going to go back there some day.

And my heart is breaking, but I manage not to cry.  I hold very still, hardly daring to breathe.