Superman, Darth Vader and the Magic in the Mundane

When my children were young, they all enjoyed dressing up in costumes. They loved spending a few hours in the worlds of their favorite characters. However, my youngest son took it to a whole different level. Dividing his time between superheroes and villains, he would spend days dressed in costume. He added a spark to my days that I desperately tried to appreciate. 

Superman

He was at least the fourth little boy to wear that Superman costume. It was full of holes and pretty thin by the time he received it, but he didn’t care. When he donned that signature blue bodysuit and the radiant red cape, he became the man of steel.

I have fond memories of Superman helping me sort laundry on an otherwise mundane midweek morning. My pint sized superhero provided very little actual assistance, but the charming way he awkwardly flew from pile to pile lightened the load for me all the same.  

Darth Vader

It was his affinity for the dark side of the force that added something really special to my days. If the mood, or rather the force, struck him, he could be counted on to use it no matter where we were and no matter who was watching. 

Anytime we approached automatic doors, his delicate little arm would shoot out, hand in that gripping C shape, trembling as he forced the doors apart. Sometimes as we passed through he would swipe with his opposite hand straight out from his shoulder and straight down behind him forcing the doors closed.

I loved every minute of it. I did my best never to rush this powerful force of imagination. As soon as I saw that arm raise, I would slow my steps, sometimes stopping altogether. I would even use the handicap button to automate manual doors just to see my little Sith Lord in action.  

The Force

I remember vividly one morning as I prepared for a busy day of doctors’ appointments and errands, my little guy came downstairs dressed in his paper thin Superman costume. I told him we were heading out for the day and suggested he might want to change his clothes. Not at all discouraged, he ran back upstairs and returned a few minutes later dressed as Darth Vader. Amused by his enthusiasm, I tied his cape and we headed out. 

I am certain my son lived one of his best days that day as we marched down the long corridors of the children’s hospital. He loudly hummed The Imperial March and boldly used the force to open doors and move people out of the way. We marched along to his soundtrack providing comic relief to medical personnel and patients alike. To his credit, he stayed true to the character all day, proving the force was strong with that one.

When the Magic Ends

Long after the costumes became too small, my son would still occasionally use the force and I would delight in every single instance. It wouldn’t last though. I knew these days would come; the days when he would no longer wish to merge make believe with reality. 

I have only memories left of the magic he brought into the mundane; memories and a tattered Darth Vader costume that no longer smells like my little Jedi Knight. 

Gone are the days when I ran errands with little ones in tow. I run my errands mostly alone now. Sometimes, when I encounter an automatic door, I hear my young son’s humming, and with a broken heart, I thank God for every magical moment I spent with the Dark Side.