I had a good time last weekend, particularly on Saturday. I went to see The Wizard of Oz solo at the local art house cinema. It was a nearly packed house. The collective body heat made the auditorium warm and toasty. There were small children in attendance who, at some point, got bored and started running through the aisles. Normally this would annoy me, but it was a family film so I didn’t mind so much. Plus, whenever the children ran by, a slight breeze would hit my face and this felt nice in the otherwise overly warm cinema. So, I decided I was fine with it.

The movie itself was magical. The Wizard of Oz was one of the first times I remember being entranced by a movie. It was my first cinematic obsession in what has been a lifetime of them. But as many times as I had seen the movie in childhood, I had never seen it on a big screen up until last night.

After the film let out, I joined the massive crowd making their way to the exit into the fresh air. Lately, it felt like winter wouldn’t let go. But this weekend, it finally did. The change felt nice. So, I walked the neighborhood, enjoying the air and letting the movie settle. I always like to take some time to digest movies I have seen. Even if it’s a movie I’ve seen dozens of times, like the Wizard of Oz, I still need to place a barrier between a story and reality for myself. It feels dirty, and even wrong, just to abruptly get up once the credits roll and move back into one’s dull daily reality.

As I was strolling through the dark, I texted a friend who had just moved to the area. She invited me over to catch up. And so, I found myself sipping drinks with my friends some moments later. In between pours, we talked about jobs, pets, and the petty losses of everyday life. We complained that concerts were too expensive, and we also listed which ones we were still planning on going to.

Some time before midnight, I said my goodbyes. My friends waited with me outside while I waited for my Uber. We hugged goodbye, and I climbed into the back of a stranger’s car, heading north through the dark.

In my past, I felt that a great weekend always had to contain some degree of chaos. I glamorized the unpredictable, hectic, and strange parts of life. I filled my life with bad decisions and false friendships so that I was hooked up to a steady stream of drama. But now I can’t stand any of that nonsense. Chaos can be an entertaining distraction. And sometimes, when who you are feels uncomfortable, distraction feels like a necessity. But as I grow older and become more comfortable with myself and in the world, I long for peace above all. And this weekend was a wonderful moment of peace.