Years ago, I remember sitting on the couch next to my mother every week and watching Twin Peaks. Maybe more than half of it went over my head then but I was pretty young. A few months before it premiered, we moved across the country from Washington State to Pennsylvania. I missed Seattle a great deal and it was, to me, like having a little bit of home every week.
A few years later, I started making her morning coffee and she always told me it was a damn fine cup of coffee. I’m certain that it wasn’t, at least initially, but it was something just between us, a shared memory, a connection. A few years after that, I drove several hours to visit my best friend at his college for their Lynch marathon weekend. What Lynch weekend would be complete without Twin Peaks? At the time, for me, it was bittersweet, hard enough that I struggled not to be a little puddle of useless. It was very near the time of the first anniversary of my mother’s death.
It’s gotten easier with time – or else I’d never be able to watch any of the things I love so much. It still makes me think of her but not in a weepy way but a warm and fuzzy way.
Hearing that there will be new episodes, not a remake or re-release, but new episodes from the bizarrely brilliant minds that started it is a total geekgasm for me. I may actually have to get showtime just so I don’t miss a minute. I can’t wait to see where all those characters are twenty five years later. I know my mom would be thrilled. I am. I can’t wait to see where they’re going to go with it.
Now, I’m going to go make myself a damn fine cup of coffee and maybe watch a little Fire Walk With Me while the boys are in school.