Disclaimer: I don't own any of this...except for maybe my interpretation of what Mrs. Pevensie observed. Lewis owns Narnia and everything related to that.

I almost didn't recognize my children when I met them at the train station today. They still looked about the same, but they were so different. I'm not sure how to really explain it, other than that they seemed so much more grown up and mature.

When I last saw Peter, he was still very much a boy. I felt bad giving him charge of the other three, since I didn't want him to be too stressed. I knew he could handle it, and that he would protect them, but I know he was scared. I didn't know how the others would react to his authority, either. He loved them, and I'm pretty sure he would have given his life for them, but he didn't always show it. He could be unkind, and he didn't know how to use his authority very well.

The only physical difference was that he was a little taller, but as Peter stepped off the train I could see that he had grown up. He helped Lucy down the step, gave Susan a firm hand, and after Edmund jumped down, he put his arm around his younger brother as they walked over to me. That little scene spoke volumes to me. He had become a gentleman, and had gained the love and respect of his siblings in a new way. I could see in his eyes that he had truly learned what authority meant, and that he was more than capable of taking on any responsibility. He had also learned to show his love towards his brother and sisters, and I feel confident that he will be a very tender and kind older brother.

My last glimpse of Susan was an incident that really illustrated her character. Peter was looking at something, and they were being asked for their tickets. Susan grabbed them out of Peter's hand, rolled her eyes at him, then smiled at the lady who was taking the tickets. She has always been the responsible one. I could count on her to do whatever I asked, and I never hesitated asking her to take charge. However, she was always so focused on what she needed to get done that she often got exasperated with her siblings when they got in her way. She was very bossy, and sometimes sarcastic, yet she loved to make a good impression on those outside of the family. I knew she would take care of Edmund and Lucy, but I was afraid of how she would do it.

Susan was even prettier today than I remembered. She had grown too, and I can see that she is becoming a woman. But more importantly, she had matured in her character. She was smiling as she stepped off the train, and she thanked Peter for helping her down. She gently took Lucy's hand and headed over to me, carrying both her bag and Lucy's. She looked back once to see if Edmund had his bag, and saw that he was dragging it. She called something to him, and he smiled and picked it up off the ground. I was amazed. She had learned how to use her authority in such a way that made those under her care want to obey. I could see that she was just as responsible as ever, but she could show kindness to everyone even in the middle of a task. Susan has always been beautiful, but the gentleness in her smile and manner gave her a radiance that no beauty could match.

Edmund had always been the misfit in the family. Something about him made people want to either ignore or harass him. This had caused him to become unkind and selfish. He was often alone, and when he was with his siblings, he was quickly riled up. He was a bully and a sneak, and because of that was despised and pushed away by his brother and sisters. He responded by withdrawing, and he had become sullen and grouchy. It had gotten so bad that he pulled away from me too. At the station, I tried to hug him, but he shrugged me off and glared into the distance. It broke my heart. I knew that it would only get worse while they were gone, and I had no idea what my little boy would become.

All my concerns vanished as Edmund jumped off the train today. I could see that he was grinning, and there was a new light in his eyes. When Peter put his arm around him, I saw him look at his big brother, his whole face lighting up. He was cheerful and happy, and responded with a smile to Susan's request to stop dragging his bag. When he got to me, he gave me a big hug, and there were tears in his eyes. He had found his place in the family, and he was becoming a man. He had learned that he needed his brother and sisters, and it appeared that they had realized that he was also important to them.

Lucy looked so small and helpless that day. She had cried herself to sleep every night since the evacuation order, and now she stood quietly beside Peter, looking as though she might burst into tears. I didn't want to let her go. She had never been away from me before, and I knew she was scared. She was such a tender, compassionate child, and rather fanciful. The older three liked to tease her about her odd notions and ideas, and she didn't act upset but I would find her crying later. She adored her big sister and brothers, and they also loved her, but their innocent fun at her expense hurt her more than they realized.

Lucy's excited greeting and loving embrace told me that my youngest was as sweet and caring as ever. It wasn't immediately obvious that she had changed, but I soon could see that the desolate little girl from before was gone. In her place was a girl ready to face anything, and perfectly able to make the best of it. Her manner was still tender, but there was a strength and bravery I had never seen in her before. She alluded to some fantasy land on the drive home, indicating that she still clung to and believed in the unbelievable, but today the other three didn't tease her. I looked back once to see Edmund's arm around her, and Susan was holding her hand. She had finally received the coveted visible affection from her siblings, and it had made a world of difference.

I don't know what happened while they were at Professor Kirke's house. Something made them realize that they needed each other, and that love makes a huge impact. Something brought them together while they were there and formed a bond between them that I don't think will ever be broken.