Maybe it’s because I never knew my deadbeat dad. Or perhaps for the unconditional love I still have for my birth mom. I guess it could have something to do with the beautifully written storyline and brilliant character development. Whatever the reason, I get pretty excited about the Disney film “Finding Nemo.”
For those who might be unfamiliar (shame on you), the movie tells the story of a Nemo (a young clownfish out to earn his stripes and independence) and his dad Marlin (who spends the majority of the movie tracking down his beloved son). They each encounter and befriend unique characters along the way, including my personal favorite the lovable and incredibly forgetful Dory.
Something Nemo, Marlin and Dory all do a lot of in the movie is escape a number of dangerous and sometimes life-threatening situations. Dory’s positive attitude amidst even the most scary of situations is inspiring. “Just keep swimming, just keep swimming, just keep swimming, swimming, swimming…What do we do? We swim, swim, swim.”
Take that, negativity! As I found myself humming that song to myself today, my thoughts turned to my escape in life. While the best laid plans never seem to come to pass, there is one escape that has never let me down. I’ve said before I’m a daydreamer. (How else should I be spending all that time while mom and dad are away at that place they call work?) Today I realized my imagination is my escape. It always has been and always will be.
Mr. and Mrs. Prickles come alive. My friends from the past, present and future are there, canine and human alike. There is no shortage of peanut butter, and there is an abundance of love. These are things that happen in my imagination frequently. It’s my safe place from the negative energy in the world.
Maybe that’s why I love “Finding Nemo” so much. Of all the characters, I think I identify most with Dory. Before she met Marlin, she was a drifter, uncertain of her purpose in life. Joining Marlin on his search for Nemo brought her fears to purpose. She remembered things better when she was around him. “And I look at you,” she said to Marlin, “and I…and I’m home.” I know what its like to feel at home just by looking at someone. My birth mom taught me that. Now I look at my adoptive parents and I’m home.