Champagne Lasagna
They both sat on the couches and giggled and did those things that girls do that drive me up the wall. They look through their US Weekly to show me who the people on some doctor show are. They try to bring me up to speed on the relationship of Pam and Jim and while I hope that I never really care about Pam or Jim or Dr. So-and-So I hope that I always care about them.
The Champagne was 6$ a bottle and the lasagna, as always, had turkey sausage in it. It was nice having company. It was nice having people in your house lounging on your furniture that weren't smoking, drinking straight out of a whiskey bottle, playing a guitar, rolling dollars, playing cards, trying to buy porn, or fighting off the daylight in underwear but no bra. It was precious and nice.
When you are eating homemade lasagna and drinking cheap champagne you start to look around and realize that everyone has problems. Everyone that you have ever known in some way or another has problems; serious problems. They have scars that run really deep and can never be healed. They have tears behind eyes that look for other eyes to find comfort. They all have pain. They all want a clan, a nest, or a partner to come home to. They want to feel warm, loved, and protected. Even when I was a kid I never really had that feeling. I never had the feeling of unconditional love. I was loved but the pain in the family was too much to really let us focus on just being there for each other. Despite the fact that most people throw the term unconditional love around like it's something to believe, I find it to be very hard to practice and attain.
The sighs last a little longer and the couches may have some bigger dents. The sitcoms and the dramas are the same as they were in the 80's or 90's and the scars grow more sore and uglier as you get older but thankfully there are people to see them, rub them, and love them simply because they love your scars as well.
