Monday, November 23, 2015

Friends that Eat Together, Stay Together


When I look back at the time I did in high school, I just remember how it is so irrelevant.  I did four years of math in high school only to retake two semesters of it in college because I suck at math.  But I did make some pretty good friends!  We would do underage fun things like watch movies at each others houses or go to the mall.  The thing we all seem to remember the most was going to each others houses and eating food.  Particularly, Charisse's house.  She lived the farthest, but she was able to lure us in with all the food her dad made. Also she had a lot of birthday parties!  When I say parties, these were so innocent. It was us watching movies and eating copious amounts of Swedish Fish and gummy bears.  We were teenagers, talking about honors classes, people in the honors classes, and more importantly, what shows we're going to, who's driving, and how am I going to lie to my parents. Sorry mom and dad. We were always eating.  Just being teenagers, hanging out and eating.

Then high school ended.  We all went different directions, but come the holidays or summer, we always found ourselves at each others houses, eating food.  To this day, my mom will feed anyone of my friends that decided to stop by.  I'm pretty sure I can say the same for any house I go to.

The picture above is the crew minus a few and plus some new ones!  But the spirit was still there. Charisse's dad wasn't home so her mom treated us to Filpino food at Kalesa Grill. It felt like I was in high school again, but we were all 30.  We ate each other's food and Chrisse's mom, like any good Asian mom, was encouraging us to eat till we exploded.  The owner also tried to get us to check in on Facebook to get some free hopia.  It might have been in a restaurant, but it felt right.  Here we are, adults, talking about the honors classes, what happened to people in the honors classes, and what shows Linda would be missing while she was in Australia.  Just being adults and eating.

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