Susie Rosso Wolf
Friday night traffic heading inland from Northridge was the worst case of hell I could think of, other than undergoing another surgery. Kurt and I trudged along in Blackie, bumper to bumper, while the fresh baked manicotti and garlic bread that sat in a heavy cardboard box on the floor in the back seat replaced the new car smell of the leather interior of our 2005 Ford F150. Two dozen over-stuffed shells lay side by side in the large tray and were put to bed under the rich red cover of my finest sauce, then covered in mozzarella and provolone cheese. The aroma was almost too much to ignore but my stomach was flip flopping from intense anticipation so food was actually the last thing on my mind. Nearly two hours had passed by the time we pulled into the designated Denny’s Restaurant where Brenda, Snowflake and Cricket were waiting for us to arrive. We parked in front of a large window and I could see the girls playing a game on an arcade style machine. I walked up to the little sidewalk between the truck and the glass and tapped on it. Cricket turned and looked right at me and immediately grabbed her sister and began to scream as they both jumped up and down. I could see them run for the door and it was when their arms embraced us that the hell from the long drive swiftly became heaven.