This Friday night I went out with my long time friend, Melanie. It was sort of a push for me to get out there and go since I'd had a rough day and desired only to bury my tired head into a pillow and sleep, but when I got the text beckoning me to come out, I did. And what's to say, other than I'm truly glad I did.
We met up at an old pizza joint by my house. The place was packed. Every table in the main dining area was occupied and we were pushed into the overflow section right by the kitchen. A hurried server took our order, then scurried away, leaving us with nothing by conversation and time. So we talked. We caught up, telling the stories of our lives over our drinks, sitting at our sticky, rickety table. Eventually, the pizza came, and then we conversed over that. It was nice, to sit and chat while enjoying the crispy, mouthwatering slices of bread, cheese, and meat.
When the meal was over, we decided it was all to soon to head home and so though it was quite chilly for a Florida night, we headed toward's the yacht club. My friend and I strolled onto the desolate water-front pier and watched the waves lap with a glint of moonlight shining over them. We stayed there, watching, until the cool got to us and out fingers demanded something to thaw them up. "Want to get some hot chocolate?" I suggested. "Why not?", Melanie agreed.
By this time the hour was quite late (for Cape Coral) and all the known spots for a good cup of steaming hot chocolate were shut down. Hunting up and down the parkway for an open establishment that sold cocoa led us to McDonald's. Not my first pick, but why the heck not? We bought our cups of oh-so-sweet hot chocolate and for the second time that night, sat down at a table. Our eyes were drooping with exhaustion, but smiles were abundant nonetheless, knowing we were safe no matter what forms of chaos danced around us. It was lovely.