Thursday, June 14, 2012
I couldn't help it. When the Stanley Cup gets raised above an NHL player's head, all of the memories and dreams from my childhood come flooding back to me. It's as if, just for the tinniest instant, the dream is alive again. For just a moment, I'm ten or eleven, watching the celebration unfold and planning what my day with the cup will be like when I win it in 10-20 years.
I'm okay with tearing up. Especially when it's because I got lost in childhood memories. It's good for my writing. My current main character dreams of winning the cup just like I did. He lives and breaths hockey. It's practically all he thinks about. I've been trying to delve deeper into his head, but it's hard sometimes. Sometimes you need a moment like Monday night to transport you to a different time and place. A place where a kid's dreams mean everything to him, and he loves a game unconditionally. I try to sit in those moments and take them in. harvest the emotions. The longer I stay there, the easier it is when my fingers hit the keyboard.