I did a lot of thinking today.
I stopped by the parents’ house again and my mom, as always, sent me home with food. Spaghetti. It made me miss my grandfather. When I was a kid, in the tiny town where we lived in Michigan, my grandma used to watch me while my parents worked. My favorite part of the day was lunchtime when my grandpa would come home and make us grilled cheese sandwiches and soup. “Green soup”, which is actually some sort of Lipton noodle soup or something. But my favorite was when there was left over spaghetti. Grandpa would throw it in a frying pan and make it taste better than it had to start with. He always cooked it until some of the noodles were crunchy and tonight, when I got home and tried (not for the first time) to duplicate Grandpa’s famous fried spaghetti, I failed miserably. Again. But the smell, in itself, was enough to bring back fond memories.
I also pondered the ending of “Sleepless in Seattle”. I mean, what happened after the movie ended? Did they ride off into the sunset and live happily ever after? Who moved where? If anyone has the answers to these questions…let me know…because it could just be that I don’t remember, but really, it is bothering me. Probably because my situation has been described to have some very similar characteristics. Very similar. Almost frighteningly similar. So this whole thing is relevant. If someone wrote my story already, I have a right to know how it ends.
Stuck-in-my-head Song of the Day: "Southern Man" - Neil Young