Yesterday the special edition DVD of Disney's "Cinderella" was released. My mother wanted to know if she should get it for M. for Christmas. I said sure, but wistfully:
Sixteen years ago my boyfriend--well, he wasn't my boyfriend at the time, but he soon would be--gave me the VHS of "Cinderella" for Christmas. It was partly that gift that let me know he would soon be my boyfriend. At the time, that was more than one might be expected to spend on a platonic friend. (As I recall, I gave him the soundtrack of "The Little Mermaid" on cassette. Yes, we were hiding from adulthood, and yes, he is now out of the closet. Irrelevant to this story.) But more than the price aspect, the fact that he picked that movie suggested that he understood me, not only knowing it was my favorite Disney movie, but that "Cinderella" is my personal iconic fairy tale. (I have small feet and like surprising people with my heretofore unnoticed qualities.)
Two years later, I was full of angry and bridge-burning feelings, but somehow this tape survived the purges. I kept it, and all three of my children have watched it countless times. The box is yellowed and brittle.
I feel very funny about getting rid of it.