There's a whole world outside my house and yard, isn't there? Sometimes I forget. It's been such a long time since I've done anything on a Saturday, even gone to a movie, that it felt odd to be venturing out today.

But I couldn't very well back out, as I usually do. I'll often make plans for a Saturday, and then sleep late (as I did today) or feel the need to get some work done (as I think the Boss would like me to have done today) or just flake out. I can invent the most rational excuses, even when it's not necessary. Even when the only person I have to convince is myself.

The reason I couldn't back out today is that I told Mom on the phone this morning that I "might" go see a movie this afternoon. She asked what I "might" see, and when I told her she allowed as how she "might" want to see it, too.

Well, I was just shocked is what I was. Even though she's all independent and strong-willed and blah blah blah, I've been thinking of her as that woman who a week ago could hardly get out of bed, and who got winded walking down her own hallway, and who was in such pain from the gout that it was hurting me almost as much. So I couldn't back out. I told her I'd pick her up in plenty of time.

This time I didn't flake out, although I did lose track of time and got to her house a little later than I'd planned. I remember the last time we tried to go to a movie at the Rialto, lo these many months ago, and we ended up driving off in a huff (or was it a Honda?) because there were no spaces in the parking lot.

Well, yes, there were spaces, but they were all occupied. So there might just as well not have been spaces, as far as I was concerned.

But we made it in time, and we found a parking spot, and we saw Whale Rider. It's a beautiful film, and a strong, lyrical story of the courage and will of a young girl making a place for herself in a world where she's taught that she doesn't belong. Yes, there are whales, and it's a visually arresting film. But it's the poignant performance of the young New Zealand actress Keisha Castle-Hughes that makes this picture unforgettable. She expresses dignity and determination with breathtaking grace.

Only about thirty people watched the movie with us, but I still consider it a shared experience, far different from watching a DVD alone in my living room in the middle of the night. That might seem obvious, but there are moments of pain and moments of joy in this film, and the sensation is emphasized by the gasps and the chuckles, the sobs and the sighs, coming from all around us. I can sob and sigh with the best of them, but it's not the same in a theater with others feeling the same (or even different) emotions.