Photo by Tracy Fuentes
Dear my beloved movie theaters,
I miss you dearly! The last time we met was nearly one year ago, on February 21st. I went in with my sister, my boyfriend, and one of my friends. Lots of people had gone to meet you that day, as it was a Friday. There were new releases, and we were watching the recently released Birds of Prey. I was very excited to watch Miss Margot Robbie in action, accompanied by other powerful women.
I walked through your doors excitedly, unaware that it would be the last time for the unforeseeable future. I placed my movie ticket in my purse, to be put into my jar of movie tickets and lucky stars, then I went into the concessions line.
I had no idea that it would be my last chance to eat a bucket of buttery popcorn and down an Icee while sitting in a chair that was just comfortable enough. There was an air of excitement in the theater, no sense of goodbyes or impending tragedy.
While I have watched many movies on my TV at home, they absolutely pale in comparison to your quality. Yes, at home there are no strangers to potentially impede on my movie watching experience, and I’m free to completely lay down, as well as comment as much as I want, but it is not the same! The worlds are not as immersive – the background of my home prevents me from fully throwing myself into the movie, the way I can when I am in the big, dark theater, complete with surround sound.
My favorite part of paying you a visit is after the movie has ended, when the lights have come up, and we start gathering our things to leave. The credits scroll across the large screen. The crowd mumbles about what they’ve just experienced or their next plans as they file out. I am in a daze, still in the world we had just observed. It takes being forced out into the jarring sunshine or the cool night air to fully bring me back to my world.
I see you as one of my soulmates, as silly as it may sound. Being in your presence speaks directly to my soul, both awakening and comforting it. Even though I am surrounded by strangers, which I typically dislike, I feel at home within your walls. You must understand the discomfort I feel to be away from you for so long.
I hope that you make it out of this pandemic alive and well, as I cannot wait to visit you again. As much as I love you, I regrettably cannot afford to pay $200 just to see you.
Until we meet again,