Should the world end tomorrow, my last meal would have to be the chicken fried steak from Bill Johnson’s Big Apple in Phoenix, AZ (how that is going to happen I have no idea since they closed the last one in Arizona down years ago).
But I digress, lets just assume that no matter what I want to eat I’m able to get it with no questions asked. We are also going to assume that just for one day I could bring back whoever I wanted for this last meal. My dinning companions would be as following:
My parents, kids, husband, brother, fur baby, and grandparents.
That chicken fried steak brings back amazing childhood memories for me. Sunday was the day that my grandparents and I went to church and then we went out to eat. Generally that place was Bill Johnson’s.
I remember when there was sawdust and/or peanuts on the floor. And I remember when my Papa was irritated when they switched from one to the other. I remember the left-overs going home wrapped in a napkin and stuck in my grandma’s purse — because Papa didn’t need or want a box. I remember the smiles, the love, and the good times that were had on Sundays at that place.
So should the world be ending and I only had one meal left, that’s what it would be. It’s not just about the meal. It’s about the memories that came with the meal. If I’m going to go out, I’m going out surrounded by the ones that I love, laughing, smiling, and making one last memory.