I feel like I need to apologize for romanticizing every little commonplace thing I happen to encounter in this life, but whenever I have a supreme moment or experience, it is left up to me capture that greatness. If the brain is swirling with wonderment, how else to paint a worthy picture other than with lovely swirls and textures. Tonight was an epic evening, though nothing really extraordinary happened. We just went to a show, that's all, but the brief interlude was such a lovely string of events so suitably banded together that as I walked it out, I felt like I was watching my own life in a movie. Like all good things, it started with a feeling of discontent. I know that sounds weird. It just sort of came out, but think about it... when God said it was not good that man should be alone, did not he maketh woman?.... also when you feel bad about something you've said or done, does it not lead you to reconciliation? Good things can come from discontentment. Anyway this discontentment led me to want to do something different today. I had to get out of the house. Suddenly I had the bright idea to go to a movie. There's a new Miyazaki film that just came out called The Wind Rises & I knew that everyone would want to see it. I did a quick check & found it was playing in about an hour. So with a bit of scurrying around, a quick double braiding of one's hair, and a tallying of allowances, we were out the door. It was free parking day downtown. We flew into the parking garage did a quick parallel park & all six of us dashed down the stairs, down the street, & into the wrong theater. Luckily the right theater was only a block away. It was an old theater (built in 1942) & not very well kept, but super quaint, because it was so tiny & the seats were snug & we were all super cozy. The movie was bright & beautiful, just as one would expect. Emmeli leaned over & said, "I love his movies." But I'm telling you there was something in the air, it's really indescribable, but that's why they call it something in the air. As I looked around, everything was so picturesque. Maybe I was just inspired by the artwork in the movie, but I wanted to paint that little theater with it's red curtained walls, it's wonderfully tight seating plan, & all of those little heads poking up from the chairs in front of me. Maybe it's because we were all so close, but I felt strangely connected to that room full of grownup-sized fans of painted movies, though I don 't remember seeing one face. There were a couple of old ladies sitting behind us. I never looked back, but they giggled several times during the movie at things that weren't even funny. The giggles were so sweet & elderly; I promise they sounded just like some old ladies out of another Miyazaki film (probably Ponyo). Infact, I think that's what first caught my attention & alerted me to the fact that something special was happening. I was like, hey, what are they doing here? Actually I had my first hint as we rounded the street corner and smelled popcorn in the air and saw the guy up on the ladder changing the sign in front of the old theater. I just love it when people do things the old way, makes everything feel so legit. So, all of these things coupled with the excitement in Emmeli's eyes! You'd think that the two of us had never been to a show before, we were both so excited. There was another moment in the film where a small child in the theater laughed out loud, a high squealed, superbly babish laugh at just the right moment, as if it had been dubbed into my life story. Do you ever have those moments? where for a moment it's like everything is playing out in slow motion, everything is so perfect and you just want to hold on to and delight in it? I know even with all of this exhortation, I'll never relive this animated little short- the piling into and out of the theater, the dash to & from the car, Emmeli bubbling over with excitement in her little braids, & my childlike, in-tune amazement & wonder at this simple pleasure, a Sunday trip to the movies. It's not that I'll never go to the movies again, or that I'll not yet again marvel at life's simple pleasures, but the beauty of this particular night is cherishable & I want to keep it the only way I know how- filed away, documented, logged into my dearly beloved little commentary.
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