Adventureland

My husband loves coming-of-age stories.  He also likes movies shot in Pittsburgh.  A great evening it was, then, when we watched the indie film "Adventureland" (available On Demand).  The movie followed recent college grads who were working at an amusement park for the summer.  Because they're young and biologically primed to mate (as opposed to me, whose eggs have definitely passed the "use by" date) and because it's so much easier to persuade other people to join you if you throw in a drink or two, sex and alcohol (two things I've traditionally supported) also played starring roles.  As my husband and I drank wine (see:  my support of alcohol) and snuggled (see:  my expired eggs), we watched this story of overwhelming desire and seemingly limitless possibility, and I remembered living in that time myself.  I didn't start teaching until I was 25 or get married until I was 29, so I had many of those moments where my story had yet to be written and really anything could happen.  Of course, much of that time involved despair over what would I be and would I end up alone, but a lot was quite simply thrilling.

As I was enjoying the movie with my husband, in our home with our children in bed, I knew I wouldn't trade this time of my life for the time before.  Nonetheless, you can't help but be nostalgic for when you were young and brimming with all different kinds of passion.  That's when it hit me.  This movie wasn't written for me.  It's written for my older daughter and who'll she be five years from now.   And that just made me sad.