My Cardboard Balcony

by Belinda Roddie The water is nice this time of year, so say my uncles and aunts as they lift kayaks over their heads and work together to strap them to their large vans and SUVs. They say it's a shame that I won't partake in their aqua antics. I simply smile and nod and wave goodbye as they disappear into the dust that the dirt and loose gravel has kicked up. Every time my extended family goes to the Wafer Cabin in Sueñotardes, it is always the same deal. Mom and Dad go blackberry picking along the nearby creek while our eleven-year-old retriever Toby waddles after them, still trying to act like a puppy. My uncles and aunts do their kayaking, and the cousins accompany them with canoes. My brother builds yet another dam on the nearby bank that we call "Trouble's Bath," using an array of large rocks and branches to hinder the current. And I, as usual, curl up on one of the wooden chairs propped outside by the round table, reading a book or doing a crossword

The sentiment of the movie was accepted and even embraced, but even so, several people walked out of the theater just not quite sure how to mentally grade or evaluate the cinematic experience. I was one of them. I knew that Sean was becoming an incredibly renowned director - three years into the game, and he already had a Golden Globe and an Oscar nomination. Critics were claiming that this film would be the next Oscar monster, but I wasn't exactly agreeing with them.