Tonight I was visiting an art exhibit of paintings created by a friend. My son-in-law did an amazing job of converting an empty cafe into an elegant art gallery. While inside, however, I realized that I had been in this building before. Way back when I was in high school, this place had been a Pizza Planet where our youth group would occasionally go after Sunday night services.
Soon after getting my driver's license, I was allowed to take the car to Pizza Planet one Sunday night on the condition that I take my little brother with me. I was so flush with the excitement of driving myself, I didn't really mind. I entered Pizza Planet as a newly ordained young man. I had cash in one pocket and car keys in the other. I sat down with the confidence only a 16 year old male driver possesses, and ordered my drink and pizza.
The drinks arrived and the banter began. Within seconds, my little brother knocked over his completely full strawberry soda. Immediately it rushed the short distance to the edge of the table where it cascaded in a crimson waterfall directly in my lap, ruining my evening's coolness; not to mention my brand new white double-knit slacks.
Tonight I stood for a moment on the exact spot. Some day I'll have to forgive my brother.
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