we didn’t have money growing up. I’m talking ketchup packets and saltines for dinner poor. Somehow, still not sure how to this day, we always went to see movies. One of my earliest memories is curling up on the floor of the theater watching Amadeus. I must’ve been 4 or 5? Timing tells me 5. My mom loved movies. Loved them. And we always went together. She didn’t have consistent friends or sitters; we moved around too much for that. So she always took me along. I know saw ET and Return of the Jedi but I can’t remember those. I got older and the movies got more varied. She loved the theater. Loved the moment when the lights would drop and the studio emblem would emblazon the screen and she would lean in close to my ear and she would whisper “it’s magic time”. Every time. Every movie. I remember seeing Working Girl and Forrest Gump and Born in the Fourth of July. Top Gun and Beetlejuice and Aliens. In the theater all if them. Sometimes once a week. If we lived near a dollar theater (we often did) we’d go see two or three in a day. It continued into my adulthood. I loved movies and still do, because of her. I’ve written screenplays and wanted to be a director and still love to watch the oscars and the golden globes. I love them.
I went to a movie today. First one since. And it hurt. I could feel her excitement. Missed her whispering “it’s magic time” missed the moments after talking about our favorite parts and how it stacked up to other movies and whether it deserves awards (it does).
We always had money and time for movies. And I thought we had lots more time for more movies.
The magic is gone.
Bountiful Words, Beautiful World 