Tonight I went and saw (500) Days of Summer. Sam was more interested in hanging out at home, and the friend I called (check me out, calling friends.) couldn't make it, so I just went on my own. I've gone to a movie on my own once before, but that other movie made me feel crazy, and this movie made me very happy. I loved the music, the clothes, the insides of their houses, the wacky formal stuff they did (split screens and, well, I don't know how to explain it. it was cool.), and the story.
After it was over I walked several blocks to my car. It was about to rain so the air was sort of heavy and cool and flashes of lightning lit up the street. I remembered why I love seeing movies at the theater: when I leave, I always feel like I'm in the movie. I think that's particularly true when I watch them by myself, so it's good that the movie was so happy (sort of--I cried at the end) and full of gorgeous details that made you know everything just by the way the light flickered on the girl's face.
Tonight I was clearly the hero, the star, and when I walked down the street the camera noticed my little smile, that I seem to have a terrible habit of looking slightly to the side to see my profile in the store windows, that the wind blew my hair just so, and my sandals made a pleasant flapflap sound, and pretty runners and couples passed me, heading for restaurants and bars and the ice cream shop. But they were just my extras. What mattered was me, my paisley green skirt, my little red car which I would drive through the rain back home to our little brick house and the Sam and the cats. And everyone watching my movie would have known that I felt very happy walking down that street because I couldn't help reaching up to touch a red awning with white trim, and I couldn't help running my fingers through the leaves hanging down from the summery trees.