When I was little my mom comforted my concerns about my love of candy by saying that I’ll grow out of it eventually. I was assured that adults generally don’t prefer doughnuts for breakfast.

My lovely mother either lied to me or the woman was poorly informed. I feel 93 years old (biological age: 40) but I’ll murder a cannoli if I found one right now. I adore all things sweet as much as ever. Perhaps more.

I love movies with equal zeal. Well, stories actually. And I don’t care if they come in the form of books or movies. Books are marathons and movies are short distance races if you fight limitations in energy and time.

When my mom became sick with cancer my worst fears were realized. Her deterioration was quick and violent. By day I did my work with just enough meticulousness to create the appearance that I gave a shit while the reality was that I could think of nothing but my mom.

When I arrived home I’d cook recipes I found on the internet [a lot of broccoli-based stuff with spices and enough ginger to sink a continent…] and took care of my mom. At night I helped her bathe and get to bed as comfortably as was possible.

Initially I’d then get to bed and stare at the ceiling while my mind took me on cruel and disturbing journeys. Sleep became elusive and my sense of doom deepened.

But it wasn’t long before the need for stories came calling. The need…the dire need…for my mind to unhook from its distressing reality and sail to foreign lands with exotic people to do daring things.

Night after night I’d get into bed and watch a movie. For those two hours my mom wasn’t dying. She was fine and safe in my childhood home while I was off on one of my magical journeys.

Somewhere near the end of the movies…or sometimes near the middle…I’d fall asleep and enjoy some needed rest.

In this uncertain time where we are separated from our peoples and feelings of loneliness and isolation can be overwhelming, I find myself turning to books and movies again.

If I get tired of the constant virus-related news and panic and consistent, non-stop discussions of virus news and panic, I turn down the lights, ascend the couch with some popcorn and buy a ticket to another world.

And for those two hours there is nothing but me and adventure. Me and great romance. Me and crime-solving. Me and some drama. Me and revitalizing laughter…

And that is two hours well spent if you ask me…

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