I sat alone watching Sally Field scream about the unfairness of life and death.
By the time I turned 10, I learned to stop asking questions.
THE DVD COLLECTION IN OUR BASEMENT BY NICOLE NUNEZ 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 128
A wholesome romantic comedy. We sat cuddled together on a green couch covered in dog hair and stains, in my parents’ tiny apartment, watching 13 Going on 30, Mom’s favorite movie. These movie nights always had the three of us chewing on Razzles and competing to see who could blow the biggest fruity bubble before it popped.
A quirky, musical comedy. Dad and I sat in the back row with the entire theater to ourselves. We got the largest bucket of popcorn doused in butter and salt, and a Coke so big I had to use both hands to keep it from slipping. School of Rock stood as one of my favorite movies for a long time after that. I took up guitar lessons and for Christmas, I got a pink, sparkly electric guitar that I practiced until my fingers bled. I had dreams of becoming a rockstar. My parents watched me, their fingers intertwined as they sang the songs along with me. Often, when I glanced up from my playing, their noses were touching, eyes closed, taking in the music as a fuel for their love.
A fantasy film series that is far too long. Sitting through the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy extended edition at seven years old was probably one of the proudest moments of my little life. Dad beamed from ear to ear as I talked about my love of the cute horses and pretty elves. But I sobbed into Mom’s shirt when Gollum came on screen. Mom said the movie was “too gory” for her. We baked cookies until Dad called across the apartment that the pretty elf Legolas was back on the screen.