When I was little, there used to be this huge movie poster from Cinderella hanging on my wall. I remember because I was obsessed with that story. I had all these books about different versions of Cinderella from all over the world. They’re probably in a box in the garage or something. One day, I hope to start collecting again. But anyway, that’s not the story.
It used to hang on the wall opposite the door, so when anyone walked in or looked in my room, it was the first thing they’d see. It had ripped edges from when I’d picked at it from nerves or moved the pushpins. But it had never once fallen down. And I loved it.
A few years ago, we moved houses. And the Cinderella poster didn’t make the cut. It was old and by that time I was 11, so who needed it, right? I can’t remember if we threw it away or sold it at a yard sale. Either way, I don’t have it now.
A few years after leaving, we moved back into that house. I began to fill the walls with posters and pictures of my friends, having even started on a Charlie McDonnell style ‘Wall of Stuff’. I was staring at the space of wall the other night, when I couldn’t sleep, and realized that space isn’t empty.
Last year, I replaced Cinderella with a movie poster from Sixteen Candles, the teen anthem for rebelling, angst, partying, and of course, love. What happened to fairy godmothers and talking mice? When did that become out of style? When did I grow up?
Times are a changin’, and I’m not sure if I like it.
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