High angle shot: we see the main character,
dressed in boots, a pale orange sweater
and a brown cowboy hat, emerging slowly
from a theater with a throng of others.
She looks small, vulnerable. Close up: reveals
she’s been crying, no, is still crying, but perhaps
trying not to cry. Medium shot. A beautiful young woman,
late teens, in a gray t-shirt, long brown hair floating loose
around her shoulders, comforts the main character.
Asks her if she would like to go for a walk instead
of getting back in line to see another film.
The main character shakes her head, then nods,
laughs, even as the tears continue to fall. Insists
that even though she cries so much, the movie
that would be made about her is a comedy.
The young woman rolls her eyes, nods,
takes the woman in the hat by the hand, walks her
away from the crowd. Long shot reveals they are
in high mountains, the aspen not yet changing,
but there’s a golden hue to their green. Above the aspen,
the spruce are thick, and above tree line, the sheer cliffs
tower, red and gray, shadowed, then spangled with the kind
of light you see in movies but can’t imagine
in your own life. But it is her own life. And she walks
with the smiling but serious young woman who is her daughter
through the unbearably beautiful set. The camera shot
changes to her point of view, focusing on the small brown bird
that sits on a railing beside her, then on the green leaves fluttering
above them, then on her own hand twined with her daughter’s,
the touch light and familiar. There are no lines for this scene
in which she wonders how she ever got lucky enough to nab
this leading role and the supporting role in this other story.
After the preparation, the letting go.
So much is about to change.
She’s determined to give it her everything.