
As the girls and I were pulling into the parking lot, Amanda said, "Mom, it's closed." I replied, "It can't be closed." Then to my horror, I saw our Taco Bell surrounded by cyclone fencing and parked awfully close to the restaurant was some kind of machine of mass destruction.
What could this mean? And why did I feel like someone had punched me in the gut?
Right about then, I received a text that Amanda's 6:00 commitment was cancelled. It's as if God knew I couldn't take much more than the demise of our beloved TB. At least now I had time to make dinner (drat!) before my commitment at 7:00.
Today I was in the area again with my girls to pick up a prescription, and when we looked over, it was gone. Gone I tell you!!

Before I could utter a word, I heard from the backseat ...
Megan: Dear Jesus, please be with Taco Bell in heaven. Amen.
Me: Amen.
Not to ruin a perfectly good, melancholy post, but I did find out that in it's place they're going to build a new and improved Taco Bell!! So by the time the weather warms back up, we'll be able to resume our regularly scheduled runs for the border.
No comments:
Post a Comment