To Infinity and Beyond...

It's funny how we attach ourselves to things: a person, a thing, a place, a moment in time.  But what reminds us of that special something can be just as powerful. A familiar smell or song, even a movie can evoke powerful emotions.  For example, this past weekend I watched a little film called Toy Story 3.  I can't remember the last time I sobbed like a child, let alone because of a movie. But TS3 did me in. Pixar did not make this for the little kiddos like the Toy Story's before it. No, they made it for us. The big kids. Who grew up with precious items from our childhood that we tried to hang on to like One Eyed Willy's treasure. After the movie ended and the outtakes began to roll, my partner in crime and I sat there attempting to compose ourselves.  I'm sure the kids were a little confused as they looked around the room, seeing all the adults in tears.  To them it was a great movie with a crappy ending where Andy gave his toys away.  Where they saw it as a tricky way to teach the lesson of sharing, we grownups knew it was so much more.  We had all been there, feeling the growing pains and getting smacked in the head by the real world.  We all knew how it felt to leave our childhood behind.  Instantly, I felt a immense urge to see someone that I hadn't held in quite sometime...

This is a story about a girl and her dinosaur....

One of my favorite movies as a little'lin was, and will always be, The Land Before Time. I can still recall with vivid detail going to the movie theatre to see it for the first time. My parents taking me to the Brauntex, which is by far the coolest movie theatre I have been in to date. The floors stickier than fly paper and the entire place, from the ticket booth to the concession stand, decorated in an incredibly ornate and tacky fashion. Just as an old Hollywood theatre should be.  Seated between my parents in a plush, red velvet seat that my feet barely hung over, I had my handful of gummy bears and was ready to go.  A little over an hour filled with long necks, three horns, swimmers, spike tails, and flyers; Diana Ross sang, credits rolled, and I was hooked.  The whole ride home was spent quoting Ducky and asking Mom random hypotheticals that only a 4yr old can come up with.

It didn't stop there.  Thanks to a brilliant marketing scheme, the movie was released right in time for Christmas. So when my mom and dad took me to the mall for some last minute shopping, there were plenty of stores that had hopped on the TLBT wagon. Looking back, I'm sure my parents had a blast navigating a 4yr old through the holiday's chaos.  But I was a content child, never needing much....until I saw...him. 

There he was, atop a huge display case at JC Penney. I bolted as fast as my little legs could carry me to that big pile of brown fur. I picked him up and held him as tight as I could. Taking a deep breath, he smelled like the perfume counters he was placed next to. When my parents caught up to me they realized they had a problem.  How were they going to separate their little girl from her new found friend?  Picking me up, Mom told me that I needed to get presents for my sister and couldn't take him home with me.  No tantrums, no fuss.  I nodded in agreement and with teary eyes, handed my furry pal to Dad.  My parents exchanged glances as if understanding each other's thoughts.  Mom walked with me in her arms back towards the exit and Dad the other way.  On the ride home I worried that Santa wouldn't know about my new discovery. I had already written my letter to him, and Christmas was only a few short days away.

We all remember waking up Christmas morning as kids, it's simply magical. Tiptoeing down the hallway, I became nervous.  There were few times growing up that I ever actually wanted a specific thing, and typically it had to do with gaming systems.  Slowly, I turned the corner letting my eyes adjust to the yuletide display. There sitting in my rocking chair, with a big red bow, was my Little Foot. I squealed running up to him. Holding him close, I could smell that same perfume from the mall.

From that moment on Little Foot always remained with me. While most little girls had baby dolls or teddy bears, I had my dinosaur. I could never fall asleep without him. Took him to slumber parties and on family vacations. One time on a road trip I had left him in a hotel.  This was long before cell phones, so Dad turned the car around and we went 2 hours out of our way to retrieve my buddy.  Little Foot was there for me when I was sick and in the hospital.  Even having matching hospital bracelets the nurse made us.  He kept me company when I was teased. Guarded me when I had my nightmares.  He took a lot of wear and tear on our adventures.  Mom had to play doctor a few times when he needed to be re-stuffed and stitched. In short, he was the Woody to my Andy...

But I couldn't stay a little girl forever, and growing up means you have to lose that security blanket.  I could never bring myself to put Little Foot in the attic like all the other relics of my childhood. He never saw the donation box or garage sale table. Instead I turned him in to a bit of a mascot.  Taking him to all of my cheer competitions through out middle school, high school, and even on to college nationals. He became my good luck charm in a sense.  Always traveled with me.  Never failing me.

Just as Woody and Buzz were no longer protecting the world from Dr. Evil Porkchop, and the rest of the toys began to collect dust in Andy's toy box. Little Foot took the backseat to my growing aspirations.  Over the years I became more independent and tough, I was finding my place in this world.  When I stumbled, I picked myself up.  There wasn't a need for my security blanket anymore.

Then it came time for me to leave my hometown and all that I knew.  Embarking on a journey that would throw plenty of curve balls my way.  Going from a cozy town resident to being a big city girl was intimidating.  Friends and family were no longer a quick drive away, but now a lengthy plane ride.  I was taking a risk and leaving my comfort zone.  Normally, most of my decisions are highly calculated.  Tending to over think things, I never take matters lightly.  However, this time my choice of moving up to an unknown world was made with passion. A passion for love, life, and career.  The results could be disastrous, putting all my effort and faith into my hopes.  The dream of having a happy and complete life was within reach.  I've never put my heart out there like this before.  Or opened up to someone the way I am doing now.  So the thought of losing all that I had worked for, was down right terrifying.  Extremely, extremely terrifying.

When I began packing up my apartment for my cross country journey, I came across a familiar face.  His perfume scent has long since faded. His fur, once shiny and soft, now matted.  The stitches Mom tendered, loosened.  His brown eyes tarnished.  His limbs floppy with lack of stuffing. But the love I have for this ragga muffin dinosaur was just as child like and strong as the day I first saw him at the store.  Little Foot was still there for me after all these years I had stood on my own. Waiting patiently for me to return to him for another adventure.  I sat on my bed and held him close.  Of course I have great support coming from my family and friends, but there was just something in him that gave me the feeling that it's OK to see the world through a child's eyes.  He was there for me when I went through losing loved ones, attacked by cruel words, my parents divorce, and all the other growing pains.  He guarded my self made forts, kept me company on rainy days, shared in my good news, all while watching me grow up.  Little Foot had seen me make it this far, and I wasn't about to leave him behind.  Without another thought, I placed him in my carry on for the early morning flight.  He may be a little rusty, but he knows the airport routine well.

Bring on the Blogger?

I'll be honest, blogging was not my idea. In fact, I have always been against it. Maybe it was the fear of having my personal thoughts out there for any and all to see. Or the vain stigma blogs have always held for me. Whatever the reason, blogging was not my cup of tea. That is, until I became addicted to my friend's blog. Her witty writing and devil may care attitude was liberating. It gave me a whole new outlook on the blogging world. She took any negative connotations I had and made it, dare I say, appealing. I've talked about it with her on several occasions, and damn, if this woman wasn't convincing. Now, many people have told me I needed to post my adventures. And have been telling me that for years. But my friend is the one who gave me the push to actually begin to post. So, f@#% it! Why not rant and rave of the blogosphere?