what matters and why

pizza

It was just a pizza place. A restaurant. And I remember so well. The night before we left for Boston, our son and I, alone, at that same pizza place, sharing our dinner together. I had no idea then. I was disappointed that night that we weren't able to see you before we flew out. You were "working late." We I packed our bags, and spent the evening running errands. And we ate at the pizza place. It seems so lonely and sad now, expecially knowing what I know now. While we were eating pizza that night, you were intently focused on this new relationship. She told me there was a weekend at her place with lots of alcohol, and that was probably the one. While we were eating pizza alone. I didn't mind that you told me you had to work instead of attend my cousins' wedding. I knew we weren't getting along very well, and it was a good excuse for some time apart. We had the best time in Boston. It was beautiful. The leaves were just the right color, and we visited all these great places. You weren't there. You missed his expressions on the duck tour through the city. You missed our night at the Naked Fish restaurant, where he couldn't get over the "Naked" part. I kept telling myself while we ate pizza tonight, It's just a restaurant. That's all. A simple pizza place that conjours up all these memories. I can't get it out of my head. Not the sex. The emotions. You shared too much. You hurt with her, you cried together. I think I tried to call you that night. I didn't like you very much at the time anyway. I was spending all my time taking care of our son and attempting to hide our marital problems from everyone in our life. We ate alone that night, him and I, as we did many nights back then. You weren't there. I can't look at my pictures from that time, knowing what I do now. I can't stop. It changes my perspective of that whole time span of our life. You spent almost nine months with someone else. And you want to me to move on.