Memory Quilt Prayer

For the most part, my quilting hobby is fun, especially the t-shirt quilt commissions.  I love the look on someone’s face (usually a sneaky mom who smuggled shirts to me) when they see those shirts made into a quilt their senior will take to college.  But sometimes the quilt commissions can take a more somber tone.  Sometimes I’m tasked with a commission to make a memory quilt from clothes from a loved one that has passed on.  I’ve made memory quilts from clothes of both deceased younger and older folks, and it’s a profound task, preserving memories of someone else’s loved one.

My first t-shirt quilts were from my father’s clothes, and they showed me the healing power of a memory quilt.  My father died unexpectedly, and I had a lot of anger mixed in with my grief.  It was an anger that I didn’t know what to do with, and I felt powerless to confront.  And then my grandmother told me I’d be making four t-shirt quilts for myself, her, and my two other sisters.  And it was in the making of these that I found a degree of peace and finally felt like I could say goodbye. Clothes are probably the hardest part of a loved one to reliquish.  We remember what they looked like in them, which ones they favored, and they even smell like that person for a long time afterwards.

I was nervous when I made a memory quilt for someone outside of my own family.  It was for a young man who had passed away from cancer.  I remember gulping a bit as I finished up the design process and was ready to make those initial cuts into the shirts.  Again, the idea of preserving those memories for someone else is daunting.  So I prayed.  I placed my hand on the bags of clothes and prayed for guidance, peace for the grieving family, and the ability to do that person’s memory justice.  Whenever I have a quilt that has a similar back story, I take the time to pray beforehand, asking for the same guidance.

I thought I would share that prayer with you all in case you find yourself faced with a similar challenge. Feel free to use, adjust, or change as needed.

“Heavenly Father, I pray your guidance as I make this quilt.  Please guide my hands that I may do justice to this person’s memory.  May this quilt bring their family comfort in their grief and remind them of more joyful times.  In your name I pray, amen.”

 

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A memory quilt made from nice business causal clothes. This lady was an artist, so I arranged it by color and placed her own artwork in the middle.
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A memory quilt made from dress shirts. I managed to keep the collars on and featured.
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A memory quilt for a friend using the shirts her father-in-law gave her over the years.
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A memory quilt made from dress shirts and t-shirts. This is the mother holding it after it was gifted to her as a surprise.

What to do with all those fabric scraps?!

When making quilts, you always have fabric scraps left over, and for the nice fabric quilters will always find a way to use every crumb of fabric.  In fact, there are even quilts called “crumb quilts” that feature all the little tidbits of fabric.  I’m not much of a crumb quilt person, and I certainly don’t have the storage room for them.  I do have a small 2 1/2″ square collection building up, though.

Scraps

When it comes to t-shirt quilts, though, the scraps issue takes on a whole other meaning.  Most t-shirt quilt blocks feature less than half of the fabric actually used in the shirt, and jersey knit doesn’t make for a nice scrap collection.  So what to do with all those fabric scraps?!

Scrap pile
I disturbed my cat’s resting place when I took this picture.

I’m so glad you asked. I make dog/cat beds out of them and donate them to the Society of Humane Friends of Georgia.

I cannot begin to gush enough about this organization or the tireless people who dedicate their time and energy to these precious animals.  Every Saturday you can find them, as well as other groups, stationed outside or inside Petco and PetSmart, trying to find families to adopt animals.  And they are so patient and sweet.  If the dog/cat damages their home, the costs come out of their own pockets.  The time they spend trying to socialize and rehabilitate some of the more traumatized animals is positively angelic. Not to mention they’re always on hand to attend to the medical needs of neglected and injured animals.  And they aren’t just trying to find any home for these animals.  They’re trying to find the RIGHT home.  They list the ideal circumstances for each animal to make sure both animal and owner are happy.

I sent out a call a while back asking friends if they had any thicker/non-quilting fabric that they wished to get rid of.  The thicker fabric does better in the long run as beds – more durable.  I’m proud to say several answered the call, and I have a ridiculous amount of fabric on hand specifically for dog/cat beds.

I tear the leftover t-shirt fabric into smaller pieces.  There’s also leftover batting strips too small to salvage as well as quilting fabric way too small to use (for me, anyway).  Then I’ll turn on a movie and stuff those scraps into the squares I’ve prepped, sewing the opening shut by hand. I can’t stuff them too full, though, or they won’t fit inside the crates.

It’s a small effort on my part, but the knowledge that maybe I’ve helped out the foster parents in some way makes me happy.  They do so much and deserve so much more.  We have two cats and a dog.  All three are connected to this organization in some way.

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I love Eleanor. She can be a bit judgey at times.

Eleanor was part of a box of cats that was abandoned in front of PetCo one Saturday morning before adoptions started. Apparently a hearse drove up, dumped off a box of black and white cats, and drove off.  The adoption folks couldn’t take them with their own animals because the cats weren’t vetted up, etc.  But because they are the loving people that they are, they promised that anyone who took home one of the hearse cats would have the cat’s first round of shots and the spay/neuter paid for.

Jordan
He’s an excellent spooning partner – if a little mouthy at times.

If I have cash on me and pass by that store on a Saturday morning (which is a lot considering it’s right beside JoAnn’s), I always try to donate something.  One morning I went and saw a little orange cat.  He twisted, turned, and did the “buy me” dance, licked my finger, and won my heart.  I went home and spoke with my husband and roommate, and we all agreed Eleanor needed a friend. So in comes Jordan!

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I am greeted every morning with excitement twirls. Such a self-esteem boost!

The last family member to join us is Diana (the Wonder Dog).  She came after a lot of thought and consideration.  We went back and forth for about two weeks when I saw a sponsored ad for her asking why no one had adopted her yet.  I put in an application about an hour later, and the foster mom met me on Monday to take her home for a week trial.  She’s been a blessing ever since.  An added bonus is that she likes to slide down playground slides!

If you’re considering getting a pet for your family, I cannot recommend adopting from the Society of Humane Friends enough!

Related blogs and posts:

Society of Humane Friends of Georgia
Savannah’s Paw Tracks

Another Good Dog

Harley’s Dream: End Puppy Mills

Empty Bobbins: The Walker

The name comes from those times when you’re in the middle of a project and your bobbin runs out.  You have to pause what you’re doing and reload.  While you do that, you have a moment to just sit and reflect.  This is a collection of musings and reflections on life’s moments. Some are quilting related, and some are not. This entry was featured on a previous blog of mine years ago.


So I grew up in the South, deep South, and one of the core understandings of Southern culture is to wave, nod, or otherwise gesture when passing someone or making eye contact. I had the pleasure of living briefly in Alexandria, VA. While I adored it there, there was no small amount of culture shock that I discovered the hard way.
I won’t forget my second day there when I made eye contact with someone, an older man at that, and before I even realized what I’d done, I’d given him a nod – otherwise known as the “Howdo?” nod. It’s a small thing, but the idea behind it is that you’re acknowledging that person. And that man, who back home would have smiled and maybe even chatted, scowled – actually scowled – at me. Well, that put my “Howdo?s” in check pretty fast. I remember feeling so awkward when I would pass someone who seemed, at least to me, to be going out of his/her way to ignore me.
So I returned after a year to see a friend after having moved back to the homeland, and I found myself being reminded of my roots while walking. I was alone on the sidewalk when I spied a man walking towards me a good ways off. Again, where I come from, it’s considered polite to make eye contact and smile or nod. Jeebus, do something to acknowledge that someone is taking up mass in the same vicinity as you! Anyhow, as I watched, the man seemed stiff, and his neck was so rigid that it left no doubt that he knew I was there, walking in his space, breathing in his air. And yet…and yet he was going out of his way to not look at me. It was clearly much more uncomfortable to him than me as I gazed at the scenario, amused. At least I waited until he passed before laughing out loud. Imagine, going through all that just to not look at me. It has gone down as one of the silliest moments I can remember from up there.
How often do we go out of our way to avoid the obvious?

Related blogs and posts:

Porchscene: Exploring Southern Culture

The Cultural Markers of Southern Culture

 

Empty Bobbins: DragonCon 2014

The name comes from those times when you’re in the middle of a project and your bobbin runs out.  You have to pause what you’re doing and reload.  While you do that, you have a moment to just sit and reflect.  This little commentary that follows was from my old blog and details a trip to DragonCon in 2014 when my daughter was 3, almost 4.

I’ve gone to DragonCon on and off over the years.  I love it when I go, but I find I can tolerate crowds less and less as I get older.  I just don’t want to deal with it much anymore unless I simply have to.  If I go to DragonCon at all, it’s now on Sunday.  That being said, this year my family is sitting it out, but many of my friends are going. It’s a blast to see what all they’re up to!

Of course, the best part of DragonCon, or any Con, is the people-watching, and boy did it not disappoint.  One of the first costumes I saw was a lady with a sizable Toothless the Dragon draped across her shoulder, her arm carefully hidden in the neck and operating the head.  She was very nice and patient, too, as I held my 3 year old close.  Toothless tried to nuzzle my girl, but she was having none of that; she was quite content admiring from afar.  She’s her mother’s child after all.  And this Toothless-wielding lady wasn’t the only person who took special time with my kid.

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Literary cosplays are the best!

It’s easy to relegate cosplayers into a group of people vying for attention, usually in Anime getups, and on one level you’d be right.  They do dress to get attention.  But on another level you’d be completely wrong.  They dress for attention not so much for themselves as for their craft, the costume.  And in that craft, they act more like a model for their pride and joy – those costumes they spent weeks, and sometimes months, making and crafting, paying attention to minute details only a select few will truly appreciate.   (I have a lot of friends who are in to cosplay, and sometimes I forget I’m not actually part of that subculture.  I’m just privy to it.)

Back to my daughter.  She didn’t appreciate the Tinkerbell cosplayer’s sewing, makeup, or hair.  Her appreciation was of a much more sincere type, and the Tinkerbell cosplayer was worth every ounce of admiration.  You see, my daughter didn’t see someone dressed as Tinkerbell.  She saw the One, the Actual, The Tinkerbell.  And that Tinkerbell was amazing.  She squatted down to my daughter’s level, something dangerous considering how many people were rushing past, and spoke with her as Tinkerbell would.  My daughter informed her of her own pink wings, and Tinkerbell, without missing a beat, says, “Of, course!  Because you’re a flower fairy.  I’m a tinker fairy….”  My daughter was totally in the know of the world of Pixie Hollow, so she was just enthralled.  And me?  I was so happy that this lady understood how important this moment was for my daughter.  She could have just paused for a quick picture and gone on with her day, and my daughter would have been happy at that.    But no, she took the time to talk and make the moment real for a child she didn’t know.  I don’t know how many times I mouthed “thank you” to her as she chatted, but I still think it wasn’t quite enough.

And most of the cosplayers my daughter was brave enough to approach were just like this.  Even a younger girl, around 8 years old I guess, dressed as Princess Unikitty, was patient and returned the hug my daughter gave her.  A group recreating the Pixie Hollow fairies actually came back to their spot when they saw my daughter standing timidly at the edge of the crowd, too shy to walk up.  They waited and waved to her, and she finally drafted another friend of mine to take her to them.  (What?  Mom’s too lame to go with you to Pixie Hollow?)  They all took their roles seriously in that they knew how much it would mean to the little ones there, wading through thousands of people, to see them.

So in a way, I suppose this is a thank you letter to the wonderful cosplayers at DragonCon.  Thank you for your craft, thank you for your patience, and thank you for making my daughter’s favorite characters come to life for her.

Have fun, everyone, at DragonCon 2018!  

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This guy was so patient.  He has a Facebook page where you can see more of his work.  He’s fantastic!  https://www.facebook.com/Lonstermash/

If you’re interested in anything cosplay, I recommend The Geek Forge.

Related posts and blogs:

How the Power of Cosplay can Bring a Family Together

Sew Style Hero: All Might; My Hero Academia Cosplay

Scarlett Witch Cosplay: Avengers Infinity War

SURVIVING DRAGONCON : 2018 EDITION

From DragonCon to MommyCon

An Analysis of Pixar’s “Bao”

As mentioned before, in my real life I’m a literature teacher at a high school. If you’ll permit me to exercise my non-quilting skills, I’ll demonstrate what I do on a daily basis in my classroom.

I recently took my kids to see Incredibles 2 (okay, let’s be honest – I took myself, the kids were just along for the ride!)  Like many Pixar films, there was a short film prior.  These are really cute and usually saturated with metaphors and rife with literary analysis, and this movie was no different.  It had a little film titled “Bao”, directed by Domee Shi.  Some friends of mine, and other rando folks on the internet, expressed confusion and concern over it.  As a literature teacher, I “got it”, so I figured I’d share this little analysis with you all.

Background Info

The Folklore Connection

So there are several things going on in the background of this little film that help with sorting it all out.  For starters, this is a nice little nod to the Eastern folklore story of “The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter.”  (It’s goes by other variations of that name as well.) Think about it as a sort of Eastern version of “Thumbelina” or even “Pinocchio” and you’ll follow along just fine.  At its heart, it’s the story about a lonely bamboo cutter and his wife who have no children and desperately wish for one.  One day while out on the job, the bamboo cutter’s wish is granted in the form of a small, very small, baby who comes from a bamboo stalk.  The story goes on from there, but it’s the origin of the baby that’s important for this connection.  The baby was created out of a desperate wish for companionship, for a child specifically, to love and raise.  At the opening of “Bao”, we see a couple, older, who are having a quiet dinner.  The husband doesn’t say much/anything, and we’re led to believe that the woman’s wish is possibly the result of loneliness in marriage.

Yes, it’s a bit of a shock when she bites into that last dumpling/bao and it begins to cry like a baby.  We watch in surprise along with the lady as the dumpling becomes sentient and acts just as a baby would.  Where we part ways with the woman is that she accepts the presence of the dumpling child and basically rolls with it.

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Magical Realism

Now comes the second part of the background knowledge you’ll need.  Congratulations!  You’ve just been exposed to [possibly] you’re first experience of a genre known as “magical realism”.  It’s a neat genre, one of my favorites actually, where the world seems normal and folks generally go by established social norms; except when something “magical” happens they just roll with it.  Examples of this genre range from the writing of Gabriel Garcia Marquez, especially his masterpiece 100 Years of Solitude, all the way to Toni Morrison’s Beloved.  More popular cultural examples are found all throughout the films released by Studio Ghibli and it’s head, Hayao Miyazaki.  Coincidentally, they also released Princess Kaguya, a version of “The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter.”

So here’s what I mean.  In Garcia Marquez’s 100 Years of Solitude, a character actually, literally ascends to Heaven. Do not pass Go.  Do not collect $200.  She straight up GOES Straight Up.  And while we normal folks in our realm would be confused and concerned about the logistics and get caught up in the details, the normal folks in the novel take careful note of the event and then go on with their day with a sort of “guess it figures” attitude.  In Miyazaki’s film My Neighbor Totoro, the kids run to the dad, claiming the house is haunted.  His only response is to comment something along the lines of “Neat! I’ve always wanted to live in a haunted house!”  No one questions or dismisses the kids’ claims.  They believe and embrace them.

So when the little dumpling turns sentient and the woman rolls with it instead of getting caught up in the “why” and “how” of it all, the story crosses over from the realm of the normal and is now operating by the magical realism rules.

The Analysis

Once the scenario is established and we’ve, hopefully, accepted the situation that this woman is now a “mother” to this little dumpling child, we follow her struggles.  This isn’t a normal child.  It’s easily damaged, and she’s fought long and hard to bring it up as best as she can.  While strange, we can compare her joys and it’s growth and fears of the outside world to our own if we are parents.  I’m a mother of two, and the idea of something happening to my two children is enough to change my breathing and blood pressure immediately.

So we learn to understand her concerns, but we also see the little dumpling child pulling away.  We see it going through the typical “phases” of childhood and adolescence.  Again, we can compare these scenes to our own experiences as either parent or child – or both!

Tugging through this all is the one thought “how long can she keep this up?”

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Food as a love language symbolism

It’s where these struggles reach their peak that we see how big a role food actually plays in this film.  It wasn’t a coincidence that the film begins with a meal.  As Professor Thomas C. Foster points out in his book How to Read Literature Like a Professor, meals are symbolic of relationships and indicative of how close people are.  Want to see how healthy a family really is?  Watch them when they sit down to a meal together.  It’s very telling.  For a quick reference examine EVERY DINNER SCENE IN THE INCREDIBLES MOVIES.  BOTH OF THEM. 

So the film opens with a meal between two people with no conversation or eye contact.  It’s an easy sell for us as the audience that the woman probably feels lonely.  As strange as the device of the dumpling child would be, it’s a nice symbolic tie-in that it comes after the husband has left the table and the last piece of food is being eaten by the woman that the dumpling child manifests.  It arrives at the height of her loneliness and her “love language” being unrequited or appreciated.  If the phrase “love language” is confusing, here’s what I mean.

We also see the big scene where she decides, in a last effort to reach her grumpy, petulant dumpling child, she cooks the most delicious-looking meal that animation has EVER produced!  I mean I wanted to go out to the nearest Chinese restaurant after that scene and dig in!  You can see the love and care she takes to ensure this meal is “perfect”.  And her dumpling child rejects it and leaves her alone in the room.  She then proceeds to eat the entire meal by herself.  On the surface, it looks like she’s being petty and doesn’t want to give her dumpling child the satisfaction of leftovers, but symbolically she’s taking back her love because it was rejected.  She can’t take it anymore and tries to “self-love” as she consumes this perfect meal by herself.  Notice that the husband is no longer shown in these parts because it has ceased to be about him a long time ago.  This is about her and her need for affection.

The Parent-Child Relationship Theme

After that rejected food offering, the film reaches its climax.  The dumpling child returns home with a girlfriend.  In fact, he indicates he’s leaving the home to be with her.  Here the woman reaches her most frantic state of mind.  After all that she’s done to keep him safe.  All that she’s provided.  All the love she’s invested.  She cannot bear to see him leave, so she pulls back – literally.  She does physically what I can only guess every mother has done emotionally when seeing her son “replace” her in her mind.  We know she can’t actually stop him.  And she probably knows that even if she were to miraculously manage to keep him with her physically the emotional connection has changed.  In her mind it’s gone.

And here’s where most people, rightfully so, were “disturbed”.  (I use the word I’ve seen to describe this scene by others online.)  She eats it.  She eats the dumpling child in a final effort to keep it from leaving her.  Of course her regret is immediate because she’s still lost the dumpling child.  In her fervor to keep it from leaving her she’s destroyed any chance of a relationship.

And it’s here that the story also reaches its zenith of symbolism.

Parents know that our kids aren’t ours to keep indefinitely.  They will pull away and leave our care and safety at some point.  And the harder we try to control that and fight it the harder the push back is.  And in her efforts to put off that separation she destroyed everything, including the one she loved most.  The story acts as a warning against that consuming love that won’t admit growth and separation.  It is destructive and will only end in tears and further loneliness and alienation.

Isn’t This Just Empty Nest Syndrome?

I’ve seen some claim the film is simply about “empty nest syndrome”.  Well, kinda.  But that seems simplistic and doesn’t quite do justice to the complexity of this story. Empty Nest Syndrome focuses on the separation of the parent and child. “Bao” is much deeper than this.  It’s about that love between a mother and her child and where the line gets crossed between love that is nurturing to love that is destructive.  It’s about that fear parents have of no longer being relevant in their child’s life.  It’s about being possibly replaced.

Wait, there’s a son?!

And here we see her, lying on her bed in the dark, crying continuously.  She’s admittedly much worse off than she was at the beginning of the film.  We see the long-absent husband looking in on her with concern.  And then the big reveal happens.  Her human son walks in, looking adorably like a little dumpling himself.  This makes it easy to understand why we’re only just now seeing him.  The woman was crying both over her dumpling child’s fate AND the fact that she’s repeated the same mistake again.  Held on too hard again.  Severed that bond because it couldn’t be all hers… again.  Her loneliness that we saw in the opening scene wasn’t from her marriage but from her vacant role as mother.

Here’s where it gets sweet.  The son gets pushed in by the dad in a final attempt at reconciliation. And what does the son do to shorten the distance between himself and his mother?  He speaks her love language and offers her food.  And he joins her in this little “communion” and eats as well.  They sit on the bed, side-by-side, and just eat. No words are necessary; they’re already speaking.  He understands her much better than she realized.  He was listening after all.

From this small moment, they begin again.  Only this time the significant other is invited in to the relationship, and the mother assumes the role of mentor instead of “mother.”  After all, her motherly instincts before revolved around protection.  As a mentor, her role changes, and so do the dynamics.  The wife is welcomed and included.  Not only that, but she excels!

Final Message

The food symbolism changes from the sitting down and eating together to the preparation of the meal itself.  The mother is no longer simply offering up her love language of food for others to consume.  Now she is enabling others to also express themselves in that same medium, and they create the meal together.  And as such, she is no longer in fear of being irrelevant or unnecessary in her son’s life.  She is important and feels it.  And the best part is now her child/children have a way to speak her own love language to her.  She is now open to receiving love in addition to offering it.

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Empty Bobbins: A friend with no name

Empty bobbins are moments in life where we pause and reflect.  It’s like when your bobbin runs out in the middle of a project, and you have to pause everything you’re doing to reload.  Here’s one such reflective moment.  This is a moment from a couple of weeks ago when my son went to soccer camp.

So my son, five, played one season of soccer a couple of years ago he liked it but seemed distracted.  Most of the time he just ran around the back part of the group and blended in with the herd.  After that we didn’t hear about soccer again until this past school year.  Well during the week there was just too much going on, so we agreed that a week soccer camp, blessedly at an indoor facility, would be a good start to get back into the game.

Well he loved it.  He was tired, sweaty, and pleased as punch.  I was happy to see he was running and keeping up with the other kids.  As he walked back to the car with me, he was telling me about his friend whom he’d pointed out earlier.  I asked, “What was her name?”  He thought, shrugged, and casually said, “I don’t know.” And then he went on telling me the games they played in camp and such.  I laughed at the fact that he didn’t even know the name of his so-called “friend”.

Well a couple of days later, as we were walking back to the car again, he pointed at a couple of little boys and said, “those are my friends, too!”  They rolled down the window and waved to him.  Once more I asked, “Well, what are their names?”  He looked off and muttered, “I don’t know.”  It didn’t even phase him.

My first impulse was to laugh, but I stopped short because his face was serious as his thoughts were elsewhere.  And here I realized the biggest difference between myself and my little boy’s outlook – and as a result the outlooks of children versus adults.  He didn’t need to know their names to determine they were friends.

As adults, we often ask all about a person to determine how good of a friend that person will be.  We need to know how much we have in common, make connections, and be able to see part of ourselves in that person in order to bond.  But for my son and his friends, they didn’t need to know all that.  They only needed to know that this person wanted to be a friend.  So much so that they forgot to ask about the most basic information – a name.  That simple bond made me smile and consider how we, as adults, would be better off if we could remember that same rule.

What if the fact that we wanted to be friends was enough of a basis for a friendship?

Makes you wonder.

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Related Blogs and Posts:

Autism in Our Nest: Another Successful Season!

How (Not) to Coach Little Kids Soccer

Mushy Post About Friendship

Empty Bobbins: The Last Unicorn

Empty bobbins are moments in life where we pause and reflect.  It’s like when your bobbin runs out in the middle of a project, and you have to pause everything you’re doing to reload.  Here’s one such reflective moment.  This is from a moment when my daughter, now seven, was two.

As a parent, one of the best things ever is getting to introduce all the cool stuff from your childhood to your kid.  So one Saturday evening, I took a chance and busted out The Last Unicorn.  Any kid from the 80’s remembers this film, and I was a little concerned that the Red Bull would frighten her.  I was right about the Red Bull, but after her initial fright, I think she even liked him.  She certainly talked about the Red Bull for a long time after that – and not in an anxious way, more like an old friend.

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Anyhow, so we got to the end of the film, you know, where the unicorns all are freed and come running out of the sea (spoilers!).  There’s a chorus, and by this point you’re super invested in the fate of the unicorns and stuff.  So was my two year old.  I watched to see what she’d do once she got a load of all the unicorns instead of just the one.

The moment was worth it.

Her mouth parted, and she was barely breathing she was so excited.  She finally whispered to me, “can I sing?”  Of course, I told her to go for it.  Now, she didn’t know any words, so she just sang long with the notes as best as she could.  But each syllable she muttered was an attempt to join in on the magic.

It was the magic that comes along with forgetting you’re sitting on a couch and that an adult is nearby.

It’s the magic that comes when you completely let go of pretension and just savor the moment – whatever moment that may be.

It’s the magic of everything around ceasing to exist except the story in front of you.

Somewhere along the way, we become too aware of our surroundings and forget how to do this.  But kids, they know how to do it instinctively.  And in my kid’s joy of singing along with the unicorns, I, too, forgot for a moment I was sitting on a couch on a Saturday evening.

 

Related blogs and posts:

Book Thoughts: The Last Unicorn (Peter S. Beagle)

Animation Revival Beyond Disney – The Last Unicorn

The Last Unicorn (1982)