I decided on a whim this evening to take my younger son to The Lone Star Steakhouse for dinner. We hadn't been there in a while, in fact, the last time we were there was with Bobby. The place was packed, which I thought was a little unusual for a Sunday night, and we were told there was a 15-20 minute wait. So we waited.
When we were seated, the server introduced herself (Kelly) and told us immediately, "We are out of a lot of things on the menu. Tonight is our last night."
"Forever?" I asked, a little confused.
"Yes, forever. They just told us last week we are closing. They are tearing down the building to build a Buffalo Bill's Brewery,” she explained.
Under normal circumstances, this would not bother me. But under my abnormal circumstances, tonight it did. Not because I'm a big fan of the Lone Star Steakhouse, but because Bobby and I made a wonderful memory there about 13 years ago when our oldest was just a baby. We went to eat there, and my son had his first piece of pumpernickel bread. He gnawed on that bread forever, and it was so cute. We got such a kick out of it, and talked about it for years to come, entertaining our now-14-year-old with the story.
I remember where we sat in the restaurant that night. I remember looking at my son in the high-chair, which was pushed up against the booth. I remember that it was also our first time at the Lone Star, and how much we loved their pumpernickel bread that they served warm.
It made me realize something: the memories that Bobby and I made are finite. Now, I know we are all mortal and everything that we do is finite, but in my case, the end has already come and gone, and no more memories will be made, and I'm young enough for it to bother me. And now, one of the places that reminded me of a wonderful memory is going to be torn down. It made me realize another cold hard truth...that one by one, the memories are all going to be torn down, and no new ones will be made to take their places.
I never knew the Lone Star Steakhouse could make me so sad.