Goodnight Moonโฆ
๐๐ฏ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐จ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ข๐ต ๐จ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ฆ๐ฏ ๐ณ๐ฐ๐ฐ๐ฎ
๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ณ๐ฆ ๐ธ๐ข๐ด ๐ข ๐ต๐ฆ๐ญ๐ฆ๐ฑ๐ฉ๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ฆ
๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐ข ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐ฃ๐ข๐ญ๐ญ๐ฐ๐ฐ๐ฏ
๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐ข ๐ฑ๐ช๐ค๐ต๐ถ๐ณ๐ฆ ๐ฐ๐ง
๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ค๐ฐ๐ธ ๐ซ๐ถ๐ฎ๐ฑ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐ฐ๐ท๐ฆ๐ณ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ฎ๐ฐ๐ฐ๐ฏ.
You know it. Maybe you read it to your kids. Maybe someone read it to you.
๐๐ฐ๐ฐ๐ฅ๐ฏ๐ช๐จ๐ฉ๐ต ๐๐ฐ๐ฐ๐ฏ, written in 1947 by Margaret Wise Brown, is the kind of story that sticks. It lives somewhere back in your memory, tucked between ๐๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐๐ฐ๐ถ๐ด๐ฆ ๐ข๐ต ๐๐ฐ๐ฐ๐ฉ ๐๐ฐ๐ณ๐ฏ๐ฆ๐ณ and ๐๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ณ๐ฆ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐๐ช๐ญ๐ฅ ๐๐ฉ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ๐ด ๐๐ณ๐ฆ.
And you remember how it made you feel.
Warm. Comforted. Safe.
Wouldnโt it be something to wrap yourself in that feeling? To fall asleep inside that Great Green Room just once?
Well, now you can. Thereโs a hotel in Boston that created a suite that recreates the room down to the smallest detail. From the three little bears sitting on chairs to the comb and the brush. Iโm assuming the bowl full of mush is optional, and Iโm hoping the quiet old lady whispering hush didnโt make the cut because, well, that would be a little creepy.
I donโt know what their motivation was, but Iโm glad they did it. Thereโs something wonderful about honoring a story so many of us carry with us.
What is it about stories like this? The ones we want to step inside, return to, live inโeven just for a moment?
Maybe you wonโt make it to Boston to sleep in the Great Green Room. But close your eyes and remember that stories can do that. Good stories create worlds we canโt quite shake, and maybe donโt want to, because they remind us what it feels like to feel warm and safe.
A rare thing these days.
So until thenโฆ
๐๐ฐ๐ฐ๐ฅ๐ฏ๐ช๐จ๐ฉ๐ต ๐ด๐ต๐ข๐ณ๐ด
๐๐ฐ๐ฐ๐ฅ๐ฏ๐ช๐จ๐ฉ๐ต ๐ข๐ช๐ณ
๐๐ฐ๐ฐ๐ฅ๐ฏ๐ช๐จ๐ฉ๐ต ๐ฏ๐ฐ๐ช๐ด๐ฆ๐ด ๐ฆ๐ท๐ฆ๐ณ๐บ๐ธ๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ณ๐ฆ.
