I was thinking tonight about the past.
The day in real life had gone longer than expected and I was on my own for dinner. I decided to pick up a slice of pizza at a local place and call it a night. While I stood over the kitchen sink and ate my pizza I remembered a dinner from decades ago. I might have been in middle school, or maybe early in high school. I was very close to my paternal grandmother. I spent lots of time with her as she lived near and had been widowed since I was 10. One evening, while I was with her, she suggested we go out and get a pizza for dinner. She said we should go to this small neighborhood place that had been open for about 50 years by that point. She said they had good pizza. I’d never been there, but was always up for pizza. We went to the restaurant, walked in, and were seated. Then we got the menu.
My grandmother asked our server, where was the pizza. She was told that they no longer served pizza. The next generation had recently taken over full operation of the restaurant and they were looking to make it more “upscale.” Pizza didn’t figure into their plans. My grandmother stated matter-of-factly that the only reason we came was to get pizza. All she wanted to eat was pizza and have a small glass of beer. Since there wasn’t any pizza she didn’t see much reason to stay.
My memory has grown hazy. I don’t recall leaving and getting dinner somewhere else, but I don’t recall what we might have actually had. I do recall my grandmother complaining for the rest of the night that all she really wanted was pizza and a small beer.
For what it is worth, we never went out for pizza (and beer) again. I don’t know if that craving was satisfied at some other time, or if she just decided to put pizza and beer out of her mind forever.