Matinee

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Yesterday my girlfriends and I ducked into the movies in the middle of the day, bought a big bag of popcorn to share, and sat in the cool darkness of a theater for an hour and a half enjoying a fairly forgettable flick and a delicious little respite from everything. As you can see from the photo above, we essentially had the place to ourselves, which made it feel like our own secret hideout.

Going to a movie matinee has always seemed like a miniature vacation to me, a deliciously decadent little treat. I like the comforting curve and cushion of the theater seats in rows all around like a bulwark against reality. I like the smells of popcorn and air-conditioning, our cell phones on airplane mode, the occasional whispered comment of the friend at your side, sly and confiding, like a wisecrack in study hall when the teacher turns his back. I like being invisible and unreachable for a little while, lost in a story with my life on pause. Even Time, that old tyrant, stays outside waiting, and we blink into the brightness of the day when we exit, a little disoriented for a moment, and the world is newly surprising.