It’s Okay to Cry with Your Mom at the Movies 1

Here's another essay I found from a decade ago …

I'd matured past the age of skinned knees and bruised egos. That’s when Mom could easily wipe away the tears.

Now I’m into sprained ankles and seeking sanity in the real world. Mom doesn’t see me cry much these days. That could be because we live a state apart.

Many grown children like me want to believe we are adult enough not to cry in front of our parents, unless something terrible has happened and crying is the only natural response.

We like to believe we control our emotions … most of the time. But some movies crumble the facade.

The film my mother and I wanted to see had been labeled a tear-jerker, but I felt brave that day. However, I was having my doubts as the theater complex came into view. I wished I hadn’t overstuffed my jeans’ pockets with a small billfold and a ring of keys, leaving no room for essentials like tissues.

I was beginning to tally the other coming attractions on a second hand when a hush signaled the opening scene of our feature presentation …

“It’s kind of dragging here, isn’t it?” Mom whispered, 45 minutes into the movie.

“No, this is the perfect build-up to make the inevitable believable. You have to understand the roots of the relationship before it can happen. Even in fiction or film, you have to believe it can happen. That’s what captures your emotion.”

That’s what I wanted to say, but only shrugged in response.

More tomorrow …