Last night, I had an insane craving for Pizza Del Re, this dirty pizza buffet in our hometown. The place is awful and has been since I first ate there ate age five, but at a young age I was too dazzled by the buffet promise of endless chocolate + vanilla pudding to notice.
And yet to me, its nostalgic as anything...everyone I grew up with remembers it. It was the site of many-a-pizza-party in my younger years, and somehow I manage to boomerang back every few trips around the sun just to relive the nostalgia...and laugh at the mediocre pizza. Of course my family banded together to indulge my craving before I move. And as always, the pizza was terrible. The decor was ever the same. My company was fabulous, and I ate an entire bowl of pudding.
Oh, and I drained a dollar in quarters in the arcade area.
I've spent the past week collecting little moments with my family. Late night ice cream trips, lunches out, dinners, a day at a vineyard. Evening bonfires, quick shopping trips. I haven't let myself think about saying goodbye. Mostly because I start crying as soon as it hits me that at the end of the month, I have to say goodbye. I've never really lived further than ten minutes away from my family. For now I'm just making a list of the moments I'd like to collect: bowling, more bonfires, mini-golf, taking our dog to the park.
And maybe Pizza Del Re. Again. It's strangly comforting. Like, no matter what else changes in life, some things will always be there, and always be the same. Even if it's just the promise of salty, flat pizza and old arcade games...I'll take it.
Thanks so much for the sweet comments on Things I'm Afraid to Tell You. And for pledging to read even if I can't promise photos of flowers or pretty little things. Whew. :)