Somewhere

We drove through construction, over bridges, under bridges, through numerous stoplights and behind grandpa drivers because my mouth watered for some chicken tika masala and naan.



When we arrived, we got an eyeful of something akin to this:

"NNNOOOOOO!" I moaned. "NOOOO, NOOOO, NOOOOO!" for several minutes I whined and complained and I moaned.

From the back seat came the request, "Mom, stop crying, you're making me nervous." (Liv)

She only said that because she was gleeful that my favorite Indian joint had closed. The only thing she'd eat when we were there was the tandoori chicken by the plateful. hmmph.

I may never recover from this. Indian folks who cook so marvelously, who charged me for one adult and one child even though I have 4 (which is probably why you've closed your doors), wherever you are, know that I love you so. Somewhere out there, beneath the pale moonlight, someone's thinking of you and loving you tonite. We may yet be reunited. Somewhere out there, out where dreams come true.