"One thing I know for sure is that we've all seen countless cuts of our child's movie. It's usually a midnight show or thereabouts, and despite the situations in which we know there's no possibility of a happy ending, we can't take our eyes off the screen. We can recite every line of dialogue, and we know every set and location of every scene, and even though it breaks our hearts, we can't stop watching it over and over again."
"Frankly, I've had enough of these late-show tearjerkers, and maybe you have too. These days, playing nightly in the Larry Theater of my mind is a more Hallmark-y, feel-good version of the flash that was our life together, and you'll always find me sitting in our favorite seats in the center of the top row. Robbie is nine days old, and he's lying by my side as we watch Bills placekicker Scott Norwood prepare to break my heart"
The narrator imagines the classic life-flash scenario and notes a habitual replay of personal memories like a nightly film. The mind repeatedly screens detailed, emotional scenes of family life, including a newborn Robbie present during the Giants' Super Bowl XXV victory when Scott Norwood's missed kick triggered celebration. The narrator prefers a sentimental, Hallmark-like montage of shared joys rather than tragic late-show tearjerkers. Specific moments include childhood and adult milestones, such as Rob at twenty-seven attending his first pro basketball game with family. The recurring reel centers on intimacy, memory, and small celebratory rituals.
Read at Psychology Today
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