Wind

Todd and I saw a movie this week. I can't say the name of it, because I don't want my mom to know that I watch movies with naughty scenes in it. Todd did say that it was the best indie film I have forced him to watch this year.

Since it was an indie film, I feel I must write a contemplative and expressive blog entry.

At the end of the movie, the couple finally finds a home. They open the doors and wind starts blowing through the house. They sit on the back steps with the strong breeze blowing as the folksy-pensive song plays. Blowing away the past, their travel mishaps, blowing in a new life. (Film History & Appreciation in college taught me to look at everything subtle in the mise-en-scène. And that I should pretentiously discuss "films" in coffee shops.)

What I loved most about the scene was that the wind took me back to Riomaggiore, feeling it blow on my face. Strong emotions/memories can come from scents. Photos can bring some back. But the feel of the wind will always take me back. I think I loved the feel of the wind because it reminded me of family vacations, spending all day on the shore of Lake Michigan, playing the breeze. The wind on the Italian felt comforting, familiar. I can't think of many other tactile memories I have.

We stepped outside of the theater into a breezy night. Perfect.