Movie Night

I have the windows open on a beautiful sunny afternoon and I can hear the sounds of the kids on the school playground drifting in on the breeze.  I wonder if that is universally received as an emotional pick-me-up.  For me, those voices from across the neighborhood infuse me with good feelings and a sense of contentment and always put a smile on my face.  I can’t be alone in that, can I?

I am sometimes surprised when someone mentions to me they’ve read a recent column I’ve written and say it brought tears to their eyes.  I’m not sure I can fully appreciate how my own personal experiences can bring about a reflection of a feeling shared by other parents who remember similar times of struggle or joy.  But I am beginning to understand more.  

This revelation started in the most innocent way, when I saw the third installment of Toy Story with the boys.  We’d seen the first two movies and so I assumed this one would be similar, expecting lots of laughs and probably some sentimental ending.  Little did I know, that part way through the movie, I would be literally choking back sobs and wiping tears from behind my 3-D glasses.  I didn’t even bring Kleenex for Pete sake! Plus, these aren’t even real people—it’s an animated movie!

Yet somehow, it cut straight to my heart.  The little boy in the movie grows up and prepares to move away to college.  His childhood toys are packed away.  When his mother walks into his empty bedroom she puts a hand to her chest and simply says “Oh.” And in that one word moment I got it.  I couldn’t help it.  I was overcome by an instinctual flood of emotion.  

I surprised myself at my reaction, and laughed about it afterward with the boys.  But it wasn’t until later when a friend casually asked if we had seen the movie that I began to understand.  I told her I saw it and had found it very emotional, and she eagerly shared that she had also burst into tears. So it wasn’t just me.

I began asking around, and sure enough, nearly everyone I talked with had struggled to fight back tears or had openly sobbed along with me when the boy shares his treasured childhood toys with another little girl; repeating one last time, the familiar lines and games he played with each of his favorite toys as a toddler.  Is there a parent anywhere who doesn’t instantly recall their own child’s favorites?

I am now beginning to understand. We parents share some universal emotions and feelings no matter what our other differences.  I have experienced an amazing but simple epiphany. I may be one very small dot in the universe of parents, but the world seems much smaller when you realize that a parent in Milwaukee, or Africa or China can have the exact same emotions as me. And on this very afternoon someone else, far away from here, may be smiling at the comforting sound of those little voices drifting through the window from the playground down the street.