It wasn’t supposed to turn out this way. Twenty years pass. Your girls grow into adults, leave their hometown and take pictures of places you long to be. In the wake are two, middle-aged parents plus a rowdy, red poodle from the Amish hinterlands who’s bonded like Super Glue to your husband.
Your experience is so true, so funny and the chain is so pseudo-Italian (Mannaggia!)
I have like five, ten year old Olive Garden gift cards. I just can’t. Maybe I can use them at the bar.
Consider this as a sign.