Time Travel at the Movies

Young Kate (maybe she’s thirty?) and I went to the matinee on Friday to see Brooklyn, an Irish period drama set in the fifties. When I taught Kate music as a teen, her mom Claire and I used to talk about movies and books. I laughed at Claire’s love of romance and she laughed at my lack of interest in the classics.

Claire died of cancer around the same time my mom died, so Kate and I have a bond we wish we wouldn’t. But I imagine it’s nice for Kate to have someone who talks about her mom. From the afterlife, I think Claire smiles at us, especially when we see the romantic flicks.

I love period pieces. They allow me to time travel to a different decade and to other countries. For two hours, I am someone else. This time, I was young and beautiful, with creamy skin and lots of angst.

I don’t know why so many people widen their eyes when I say I time travel. Isn’t that what all of you do when you read a fabulous book? Or tell a story from the past? Or smell the scents of your childhood? I love the future the most; it beckons. But the past definitely has its virtues.