The first piece of popcorn landed on my shoulder.
The second disappeared into my curls.
By the time another handful came sailing over the back of my seat, I knew I would be finding buttery kernels in my hair for the rest of the night.
I have thick, curly hair.
Popcorn doesn’t simply fall out of hair like mine.
It moves in permanently.
On the giant screen, Spider-Man was swinging between buildings while hundreds of people cheered.
Behind me, a nine-year-old boy was laughing at the top of his lungs.
Beside me, my husband Owen stared at the side of my head.
He reached over and carefully pulled a piece of popcorn from my curls.
He held it between two fingers.
Then he looked at me.
Something changed in his face.
I had never seen that expression before.
He placed the popcorn on the armrest as carefully as though it
