Movies have long been that place where we go to escape, to dream, to imagine. We remember a favorite movie as a child and now as parents, we want to take our own kids to the movies or trust them to go off on their own. Going to the movies shouldn't be about life or death.
For one group of friends, the simple joy of going to a movie might have changed forever because of that one night in Aurora, Colo.
I was attending the annual conference of FRIENDS, the National Association of Young People Who Stutter, with about 150 kids and parents during the weekend of July 19-21 Our hotel was in Aurora.
Twelve teenagers from our group had arranged to see the Batman movie premiere in Aurora. None of the parents gave it a second thought. Teenagers all over the country were planning the same thing.
I have known these kids since they were 9 or 10. I watched them grow up together. They should still believe that going to the movies is fun. But they might not believe that anymore. Randomness took that away.
My cellphone started ringing at 3:50 a.m. Friends called and sent texts, wanting to be sure I was safe. Some assumed that my group couldn't possibly have been impacted by the shooting.
"Right?" they asked.
"Wrong."
When I told friends and family that I was safe, they were relieved. But they were incredulous that my group had been in harm's way — the kids were in the theater next to the one where the rampage occurred. One was wounded.
I was not directly affected by this senseless tragedy. But isn't it funny how our minds work?
My brain tried to personalize this. I found myself asking the "what if" questions. Maybe we all do that when we find ourselves too close to the unimaginable.
I felt what the kids and parents in our group felt; the fear, relief and anger were that palpable. As was the guilt.
The kids and adults were all hugging each other, so thankful our group had been spared. But I also sensed the guilt. Our families were celebrating survival, which almost seemed irreverent in the face of 12 innocents who died while watching a movie.
None of us who were in Aurora that night will ever think of a night out at the movies in quite the same way. Buttery popcorn may now evoke completely different sights and smells for countless people for countless years.
I have listened and watched the news almost continuously since returning home from Colorado. I have responded to many emails and messages from family and friends who are glad to know I am safe. And I have talked about it.
I still feel the chills I felt as I listened to our kids talk about how scared they were that night. I still see how grief and pain looked on the faces of parents who second-guessed aloud why they allowed their kids to go to a movie in a strange city at midnight.
I remember sitting on a hotel couch on Saturday afternoon talking to the 14-year old brother of the 18-year-old who was shot in the arm, from bullets that had come through the walls. This 14-year-old kid who said he'd never been so scared in his life and how much he loved his older brother.
A friend told me she was sure glad I wasn't a Batman fan. It never occurred to me that someone would say that to me and it would have such meaning.
So close, yet so close.
Pamela Mertz lives in Menands. Her email is pamela.mertz@gmail.com.