Chapter 1

She didn't say what she felt like for dinner that night. It was my question though. It seems rather trivial at this point to dwell on what her answer might have been, but I find myself spending countless hours wondering what she would have said. She really loved to eat Italian, well Italian in as much as Olive Garden is Italian. Always got the same thing...chicken parmewhatever, and of course let's not forget about the salad and breadsticks. She could have been in the mood for some standard fare i.e. Chili's, Applebee's, or TGIFriday's...you know something like that. She would always shoot down my suggestions with things like "we just went there last week" or "I ate Mexican the other day", I myself liked to frequent the same place. It always brought up an argument between us about how I believed that just because you ate at a restaurant for lunch, didn't mean you couldn't go there for supper. They have other things on the menu ya know, I mean we ate our mother's cooking for every meal just about didn't we.
She wasn't having it though, she always thought I was just rationalizing after the fact to make my point like I always do. What could I say? She was right. She usually was. I myself had a hard time admitting to this, but I always knew it to be true.
It's funny how much all my memories aren't memories at all...I guess they're futures? I guess my memories are really hypotheticals if that makes any sense at all. I dwell on the could have been should have beens of the situation, and all because she didn't tell me what mood her stomach was in. I guess this is the least of my problems now...maybe I should try to remember more I guess. Maybe I don't because that forces me to feel. What I'll feel I don't know...I've kind of grown accustomed to the numbness, it's kind of my thing now...but hey, whatever, maybe I should figure this out...or maybe I'll learn completely not to care. Either way I feel I deserve an answer to my question, even if it is an insignificant one to you.