Exploring the Seasons Moment By Moment

Toy Story 3 February 16, 2011

I just finished watching Toy Story 3.  I wanted to see it because I was told it was very good, and a co-worker of mine said she cried most through it compared to the other movies she watched during the past year.  Out of all of the movies, can Toy Story 3 really make you cry the most?  Well, I wanted to see.

I sat down and prepared myself.  I am usually pretty emotional as it is so I knew that I had to put my guard up.  I could have worked while watching it, but I wanted to give it my full attention.  I wanted to show the inner strength that I have.  I thought to myself, “One of the main characters is going to die.  Could it be Woody?  Buzz?  Jessie?”  I just kept telling myself not to cling on to these characters – I could not risk attaching myself to any of them because I just knew a death was coming.  I mean, it has to take a lot to be the “most tears shed movie”.   I waited for the movie to take a dramatic turn for the worst.  And I waited…

And waited…

And waited…

And it was during my wait that something happen to me; I began to get lost in the film.  I was no longer constantly warning myself to separate myself from these characters, but I began to fall in love with them all over again, just as I did when I was 9 when I saw the first film.  These characters became old friends again, and reminded me of my own toys growing up.  I have such fond memories playing with my action figures – not dolls – with my older brother on Saturday morning.  I would get through every holiday with them, after school, and whenever I wanted to escape from my own world.  The characters started to remind me of my own childhood.

And then the end of the movie came.  It was not death that made me cry.  It was the departure.  It was the symbolic passing of one’s childhood to another.  As if it was a torch that had been passed on to the more innocent, pure people of our world.  It was passing on times when your world didn’t of scandal, drama, or heartbreak.  Pain was not getting ice cream after dinner.  We can never go back to that innocent state no matter how hard we try.  We can never deny our knowledge of reality that is filled with brokenness.  And yet we continue on.

My toys served as my best friends.  Not that I would tell them anything as if they were human, but rather, they were the characters I invented in my head to get me through when I felt all alone.  My toys were from different origins, different series, and yet when I held them, they were all family.  I had Aladdin action figures, Loin King, some GI Joes, and random others.  There were groups and there were individuals.  But through it all, they all had one thing in common – they were mine. 

But like all things, my time with my toys ended just as they ended with Andy in the film.  My toys are actually in a closet in my parents’ home safely awaiting the next generation of children to play with them.  I have a feeling even if I don’t have children of my own, I will still want to hang on to them.  Maybe one day in the nursing home I will play with them again.

The larger thinking point is this though – how many people do we only spend a season of our lives with?  We may dream of spending a lifetime with the same neighbors down the street, but that is no longer our reality; at least that will never be my life.  With each chapter of my life, new people enter into it and leave.  And yet each person remains dear to me.  Just when I think that I have no more room in my heart to love another person, room is made.  Maybe that is a small miracle in itself.

And so for all those who I have departed from already, please know that you are safely inside of me.  And for those I have yet to meet, please know that there is plenty of room in my heart to give you my love.