2012 Slice-of-Life Story Challenge | 4

 So, last night, my husband and I had a movie date.  It was "game on" the moment our remote landed on the first "Sex in the City" flick.  If you're part of their cult following (and everyone who is knows that the show is much more about the girls' relationships than sex...), you know this cinematic event is significant in the series' life because this is where the myth of Carrie and Big as a couple finally gets put to rest.

Well, kind of.

I'll admit: for many years, Big and Carrie were real people in my life because their rocky relationship connected each episode, season, and viewer.  We all wanted editorialist, Carrie, to actually find love with the elusive Big.  {It just seemed right, like Saturday morning coffee breaks.}  The movie's no exception.  They finally decide to get married, Carrie plans a fittingly stylish ceremony against Big's wishes, and then Big stands her up, sitting across the street in his signature black limo to place the call.  Events unfold, details come to light, and the rest of the movie is spent weaving their lives back together through a rich tapestry of stories but never once do they actually see each other until...

This one moment that takes my breath away each time.  {In fact, it's like so many high school sporting events that come down to last-second decisions.  The space goes quiet (amidst the deafening noise), time slows, and everything in the periphery fades.}

Carrie, in the last hour as owner of the new apartment she was supposed to call home with Big, hysterically races over to pick up the remainded pair of designer pumps she had nearly forgotten there.  She opens the door of the dream closet Big had built especially for her, and there he is, in customary sharp black suit, crisp white shirt, and striking black tie, holding her blue satin delights wistfully.  He turns, giving his trademark puppy eyes, and they run to each other...embracing like a century had passed.  He drops to one knee, proposes properly this time, and places the diamond-brooched shoe on her left foot.

Oh, are you kidding me!!??!  How poetic---in her favorite space, a closet that will fit her extravagant wardrobe.  Yessssssssssssss!  Finally.  My heart cries out with each viewing.  Breathe.

Smiling like it had been me picked up in my dream closet by my dream guy, my husband looked over and laughed.  I almost didn't see him; I was so in the zone.

"Have you ever connected with something so deeply you're there?" I asked.  {Educators know this, of course, as empathy...}

"No," he replied, "this really isn't my type of movie.  You know it's just a movie, right?"

That's just it.  I do---it is a movie---but my history of connecting with the characters and with Big and Carrie's on-again, off-again romance made me part of the story.  And, it's a good feeling to be actively involved in stories.  Stories that move.  Stories that unite.  Stories that take my breath away time and again.

You know the type?

Write on,
b