I’ve been thinking about my daughter’s experience with The Lion King. When The Lion King came out I saw it 5 or 6 times in the theatre. I really liked the movie, and still do, but it wasn’t until I started thinking about my daughter’s devastation that I realized how much it affected me too. I think deep down it might have traumatized me a bit.
When playing with my girls I refused to play dead. Don’t get me wrong, I have died a thousand deaths, some of which have taken upwards of 3 minutes to finally take hold, but I never lay motionless while they try to shake me awake. I never really realized why I found it so heartbreaking until now. It has always been a strange fear I carry that something like that would happen. Weirdly, I’ve been thinking about it alot lately and the more I ruminate, the more I realize that this was one of the motivating factors that started me running. Last thing I want is to be alone with one of my girls and have my heart suddenly give out while we are playing, that nightmarish scene in the valley playing out in the middle of my living room floor.
Too dark? Sorry I’ve been in a weird place this week.