Were You Surprised?

The backroom of Luigi's Italian in Queens is my family's first witness.The last time I was here, funeral.The time before that, First Communion.Now, birthday.I think of all the witty toasts,
jokes and genuinity, breaded angst and salty love that were muffled because of their air conditioner. I think of all the surprises and whether the reaction to a surprise 50th, a surprise death, a surprise proposal were legitimate enough to be on Bravo. I think of all the times I've not known what has happened to my Grandma, my fatherless cousin, my crippled aunt and how many times I've been boothed, cornered with nothing to say but a psalm for my lossed naivete. Apparently you can't wish anything to an almost fifty year old. They don't believe in birthdays unless they begin with Pinot Grigio. Same menu. I wonder what kind of dessert we had after the funeral. Did they serve the vanilla bean ice cream with a chocolate sauce or something more dense? Morbid, I know, but the guy loved his cheesecake. I'm sure "he would have wanted it this way." A celebration is a cope, as they shove it in your face just put some cheese and sauce on it and hope they didn't pre-order the calamari. Yesterday, I was triple-played by two boys with autism and my cousin who will never walk again. A 30 year old jailed in leg braces, I'll try not to talk about running. Sometimes, I thank God we only do these things at night or else I'm pretty sure Icarus himself would fall threw the sunroof and into my Chicken Parm. I hear he is quite the party crasher and who wouldn't want to be at this one?