When I was five, my dad took me and the family to see Star Wars: Episode 1 – The Phantom Menace.
The line was filled with dozens of Jedi and Sith, snaking its way out the doors. We inched our way closer and closer to the auditorium, and that galaxy far away as the theatre lobby kept getting louder from what must have been the chatter of people like my dad, eagerly waiting to see the characters they had grown up with like Luke, or the ever dependable R2-D2.
We finally made it to our seats after standing for a lifetime. Or at least, what a five year old Josh would consider a lifetime. The lights dimmed and the movie started in its grand Star Wars fashion. Honestly, I didn’t retain much of what was going on in terms of plot but there was one character I was drawn to, Obi-Wan Kenobi.
Obi-Wan became my hero. When the climactic fight between Obi-Wan and Darth Maul took place I couldn’t help but mimic my new icon. I flung my arms left and right, shifting in my seat holding my invisible lightsaber. I went shot for shot with Darth Maul, and when Obi-Wan grabbed onto the fixture on the side of the bottomless pit, I threw my arms up in the air holding on to it too. Dad had to pull my arms back down to my sides so I wouldn’t block anyone’s view but really, I think he was secretly working with the Sith.
From that point on, I was hooked on Star Wars. For the next six years, whenever the next movie came out we’d be there opening day. School day or not, we’d be there.
When the last movie of the prequel trilogy came out in 2005, I thought that would be the end for Star Wars. The story was finished, and we wouldn’t go back.
That was until last Christmas, when the force awakened, and I got to go back to that time when I was five, in that galaxy far away.