haley-elise
198/365- Please Read Description.
Story Time.
It was Christmas of 1999. I remember giving that Christmas the title of “Best Christmas Ever,” for one reason only. Because I got the Jessie doll from Toy Story 2. I held it in my hands and thought in my head of how much fun I would have playing with her and my Woody doll. And my Mr. Potato head… And my Bullseye the horse… And my Rex the dinosaur. I had them all.
Apparently, I had my career choice picked out at the early age of six. I was constantly asking my mother how I could become a cowgirl and make a living off it and be like Jessie. A simple doll that was a character in a movie had such a profound impact on me. My mom even bought me the Toy Story soundtrack, and I would dance around my grandparent’s house where my mom and I lived, in red cowgirl boots, my Jessie shirt, and a denim skirt.
Countless days were spent in the living room playing with Woody and Jessie. My grandpa spent all those days with me, and our playing adventures would last the whole day. Jessie and Woody would go on thrilling adventures on top of the piano, under the couch, or wherever my grandpa and I would take them.
My grandfather was my best friend. He was retired, and spent the days taking care of any needs my sick grandmother would request, and playing with me. When he smiled, there was something in his eyes that made you want to hug him, and when I was with him, my imagination took flight, as I laughed and laughed at the different voices he gave each of the dolls. At the age of 67, he was still running around the house playing Chase with me, and still going to fitness point every morning, and taking his daily swim. He came back one day, eager to share the exciting news that he saw a man who looked just like Buzz Lightyear at the pool. He had “the minuscule spiral beard and everything!”
I grew older, and my Toy Story phase rubbed off. I lost my Jessie doll, and eventually my Woody got misplaced along with the other toys. I always made sure I kept my dolls and stuffed animals in my room though. Ever since I moved up the street to the house I live in now, they’ve been sitting in a wicker basket in a corner of my room, watching the days go by, watching my interests shift, watching me grow older.
Today I went to see Toy Story 3. I was excited, remembering ten years ago how obsessed and infatuated I was with Toy Story. I only had to wait 11 years to see how the trilogy resolved itself.
I have never cried so hard at any movie, I have never taken any movie so seriously. Every time one of the toys would get hurt, or get thrown on the ground by an evil daycare child, my eyes would get really big, and I would grip the arm of the movie theater chair.
For those who have not seen it, I don’t want to give away the ending. For those who have seen it, you know what I’m talking about. You know the ending. By the time they get back to Andy’s house, and find their way back, I started tearing up. But by the end, when his car drives off, I am sobbing uncontrollably. I remembered what it was like to play with my now 76 year old grandpa in the living room every night, taking Jessie and Woody on new adventures. I remembered why I loved Jessie so much. I remembered youth, and how much I valued it, and still do. Watching that movie was like watching my life. I got home, and my mother opened the door, to see me crying on the doorstep. She cried too and we just hugged for a long time. Until she asked me what we were even crying about. I explained the movie, which wasn’t the best idea, because she was crying all over the place at that point.
I don’t even know what it is. Maybe it’s all the memories with my grandpa. Maybe it’s how I’m growing up but don’t want to. Maybe it’s how different things are with my grandparents now that my grandma is very sick. But I got upstairs, and took out my stuffed animals and dolls and just sat there looking at them for a long time. Then proceeded to add, “Jessie Doll,” to my birthday wish list.
198/365- Please Read Description.
Story Time.
It was Christmas of 1999. I remember giving that Christmas the title of “Best Christmas Ever,” for one reason only. Because I got the Jessie doll from Toy Story 2. I held it in my hands and thought in my head of how much fun I would have playing with her and my Woody doll. And my Mr. Potato head… And my Bullseye the horse… And my Rex the dinosaur. I had them all.
Apparently, I had my career choice picked out at the early age of six. I was constantly asking my mother how I could become a cowgirl and make a living off it and be like Jessie. A simple doll that was a character in a movie had such a profound impact on me. My mom even bought me the Toy Story soundtrack, and I would dance around my grandparent’s house where my mom and I lived, in red cowgirl boots, my Jessie shirt, and a denim skirt.
Countless days were spent in the living room playing with Woody and Jessie. My grandpa spent all those days with me, and our playing adventures would last the whole day. Jessie and Woody would go on thrilling adventures on top of the piano, under the couch, or wherever my grandpa and I would take them.
My grandfather was my best friend. He was retired, and spent the days taking care of any needs my sick grandmother would request, and playing with me. When he smiled, there was something in his eyes that made you want to hug him, and when I was with him, my imagination took flight, as I laughed and laughed at the different voices he gave each of the dolls. At the age of 67, he was still running around the house playing Chase with me, and still going to fitness point every morning, and taking his daily swim. He came back one day, eager to share the exciting news that he saw a man who looked just like Buzz Lightyear at the pool. He had “the minuscule spiral beard and everything!”
I grew older, and my Toy Story phase rubbed off. I lost my Jessie doll, and eventually my Woody got misplaced along with the other toys. I always made sure I kept my dolls and stuffed animals in my room though. Ever since I moved up the street to the house I live in now, they’ve been sitting in a wicker basket in a corner of my room, watching the days go by, watching my interests shift, watching me grow older.
Today I went to see Toy Story 3. I was excited, remembering ten years ago how obsessed and infatuated I was with Toy Story. I only had to wait 11 years to see how the trilogy resolved itself.
I have never cried so hard at any movie, I have never taken any movie so seriously. Every time one of the toys would get hurt, or get thrown on the ground by an evil daycare child, my eyes would get really big, and I would grip the arm of the movie theater chair.
For those who have not seen it, I don’t want to give away the ending. For those who have seen it, you know what I’m talking about. You know the ending. By the time they get back to Andy’s house, and find their way back, I started tearing up. But by the end, when his car drives off, I am sobbing uncontrollably. I remembered what it was like to play with my now 76 year old grandpa in the living room every night, taking Jessie and Woody on new adventures. I remembered why I loved Jessie so much. I remembered youth, and how much I valued it, and still do. Watching that movie was like watching my life. I got home, and my mother opened the door, to see me crying on the doorstep. She cried too and we just hugged for a long time. Until she asked me what we were even crying about. I explained the movie, which wasn’t the best idea, because she was crying all over the place at that point.
I don’t even know what it is. Maybe it’s all the memories with my grandpa. Maybe it’s how I’m growing up but don’t want to. Maybe it’s how different things are with my grandparents now that my grandma is very sick. But I got upstairs, and took out my stuffed animals and dolls and just sat there looking at them for a long time. Then proceeded to add, “Jessie Doll,” to my birthday wish list.