people are people no matter how small

I adore going to the movies. When J and I have an infrequent night to ourselves we invariably find ourselves going to a film. So it was with great excitement that we decided it was time to introduce M to our favorite escape, after proving her mettle in a couple of long distance sitting accomplishments lately that perhaps, oh the joyous thought perhaps, she'd be ready to sit through a movie.

And we were almost right. We took her to see Horton Hears a Who, a double bonus for me because Dr. Seuss far and away kicks the shit out of Disney. We took her to one of the newer theaters with all the bells and whistles on purpose because we wanted to watch her face light up.

It did not disappoint. The bright lights, the cavernous room and enormous seats and the screen, the movie is so BIG, mama, so BIG in hushed whispers with shining eyes. We'd smuggled in a snack and she sat like the princess she pictures herself to be, regal and quiet until she became unruly and louder. And hey, the movie was really terrific too.

We went home and a little later in the evening I got a call from work and learned there was something I needed to attend to so I headed over to the shelter, the day had become night and smelled like rain. I walk in and was taken slightly aback as always at the amount of people huddled on the floor. It's still early but many folks are lying down, belongings stashed underneath them and borrowed blankets on top. One guy was fast asleep with his legs poking out and shoes still on. One guy came up to me limping. It's gonna rain, he says. I know it because all the metal in my leg acts up and I can barely walk. Rain's coming, he says and limps away.

And midway down the enormous room sat about 25 guys on hard wooden benches staring at a 20" TV screen. I pause for a minute and one turns to greet me and I think it was an old Bruce Willis film but I can't be sure. They are transfixed, all bodies leaning slightly forward and all eyes fixed on the screen. There's no popcorn and the lights are bright but it's movie night here, too. The irony strikes twice and I leave the cold into the colder, heading back to the warm.