There’s this scene in Toy Story 2, where Andy drops Woody into a trash can and a pile of cards in a dream sequence that has always been pronounced for me. It’s a great scene.
Flash forward to last night, 20 years later and I watch a movie that seems to be a stretched out version of that one bit.
In Toy Story, we meet Woody and the gang of Andy’s toys. In Toy Story 2, we bring back Woody to the gang and Andy. In Toy Story 3, *sniff* Woody leaves Andy to be with the gang. And in Toy Story 4, Woody finally leaves the gang to be with Bo Peep. It’s bittersweet and I’m so glad they brought her back and made her kickass (as an independent woman would be! I thank Rashida Jones for that bit of representation)— And I’m gladder still Woody took his second chance to choose to be with her. (He found her/traces of her at a store called “Second chance Antiques”, geddit)
What’s funny is I have been prepping my children for two years to watch this movie.
I had set my mind that this was a treat for them after priming them with the movies all through toddlerhood. We even brought our own Woody smuggled in Hamzah’s backpack.
But after finally watching it, I realized I had forgotten/re-remembered that this was MY movie, it was for ME. And others like me, who have been watching and loving this unfolding story over our childhood, teenagehood, young adulthood and I guess now, not-so young adulthood.
My emotions throughout the movie were palpable.
I may have laughed once, cannot even remember which scene... not to say the movie was not humorous— but it was to me, a generally melancholic, romantic, bittersweet movie.
As I am still processing what I take from the whole thing, I cannot help but feel that this is a larger manifestation of me feeling my own age and dispensibility— to anyone and everyone, even my children who once needed me to literally survive (because I was their vehemently preferred source of food), now still need me because they still do, but will almost definitely need me less over time until there comes a point where they will be living most of their lives without me. I consoled myself thinking well I’m not a toy, they will continue to need me but in different ways. And I think that is true for me and my mom, and hope it is true for me and the boys.
Then there’s that other bit about second chances....Perhaps also a manifestation of aging, one can only hope that even if there is lost time over the years, there are always second chances.
I would certainly hope for anyone who has said bye to Bo Peep in a box, and wished they could turn back the clock, that they happen upon a carnival passing through a town with a shop of dusty memories. Catch that glimpse of light from years before, a vision of that second chance, then finally find their way back into a play with their lost love.
Flash forward to last night, 20 years later and I watch a movie that seems to be a stretched out version of that one bit.
In Toy Story, we meet Woody and the gang of Andy’s toys. In Toy Story 2, we bring back Woody to the gang and Andy. In Toy Story 3, *sniff* Woody leaves Andy to be with the gang. And in Toy Story 4, Woody finally leaves the gang to be with Bo Peep. It’s bittersweet and I’m so glad they brought her back and made her kickass (as an independent woman would be! I thank Rashida Jones for that bit of representation)— And I’m gladder still Woody took his second chance to choose to be with her. (He found her/traces of her at a store called “Second chance Antiques”, geddit)
What’s funny is I have been prepping my children for two years to watch this movie.
I had set my mind that this was a treat for them after priming them with the movies all through toddlerhood. We even brought our own Woody smuggled in Hamzah’s backpack.
But after finally watching it, I realized I had forgotten/re-remembered that this was MY movie, it was for ME. And others like me, who have been watching and loving this unfolding story over our childhood, teenagehood, young adulthood and I guess now, not-so young adulthood.
My emotions throughout the movie were palpable.
I may have laughed once, cannot even remember which scene... not to say the movie was not humorous— but it was to me, a generally melancholic, romantic, bittersweet movie.
As I am still processing what I take from the whole thing, I cannot help but feel that this is a larger manifestation of me feeling my own age and dispensibility— to anyone and everyone, even my children who once needed me to literally survive (because I was their vehemently preferred source of food), now still need me because they still do, but will almost definitely need me less over time until there comes a point where they will be living most of their lives without me. I consoled myself thinking well I’m not a toy, they will continue to need me but in different ways. And I think that is true for me and my mom, and hope it is true for me and the boys.
Then there’s that other bit about second chances....Perhaps also a manifestation of aging, one can only hope that even if there is lost time over the years, there are always second chances.
I would certainly hope for anyone who has said bye to Bo Peep in a box, and wished they could turn back the clock, that they happen upon a carnival passing through a town with a shop of dusty memories. Catch that glimpse of light from years before, a vision of that second chance, then finally find their way back into a play with their lost love.
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