Monday, September 26, 2005
Family Time
This past day I have been fully wrapped in "family day." However, it's not my family but Mr. California's. How wonderful it is to see a family get together about once a month to go eat at an American Chain and relive the good times of the past. I was so jealous. What I would give to sit with my father while he drinks his espresso, I read the comics,and he discusses who looks like a 'fox' on the TV. We usually fought over who was allowed to read the comics first or who had to make his espresso. Luckily, he got married so I am no longer forced to be the Espresso slave.
It must be so nice to be able to drive one hour to see your family. I miss the days of walking across the street to see my Abuelita watching her "Christina." The days of walking over hungry and getting a burger at Wendy's. Everyone who is Latino knows how to say it. So please go ahead. I remember watching her take her morning walks while I was waiting for the bus. I remember my family gatherings. Pizza on Friday or Saturday. Pizza with sausage and peppers, which took hours to make. Remember that the second pizza is always better than the first one because the crust comes out crunchier. I always ate about 5 slices and had two more for breakfast the next day.
My father, my dad has his faults, he is one man who I can talk to and he will love me no matter what. He was capable of making the best eggplant parmesan or hand-tossed pizza, however, his lunches for school were the worst. The worst one was one day during a Spring Break that I had to spend at the Y in Denver, Colorado. We both woke up late, rushing around like two chickens. The worst bag to bring your lunch in was a plastic bag. Of course, my dad didn't care about my complexes so he threw in a chicken leg from the night before and a crusty elbow of a baguette and 50 cents for a diet coke. I remember this so fondly, so hilarious since we were always having impromptu moments. I remember from that moment that he blindly fed, or tried, because I didn't eat the chicken. I remember he just did what had to be done. Isn't that what dads' are for? At least single dads? They do things because it had to be done and if they didn't who would?
It must be so nice to be able to drive one hour to see your family. I miss the days of walking across the street to see my Abuelita watching her "Christina." The days of walking over hungry and getting a burger at Wendy's. Everyone who is Latino knows how to say it. So please go ahead. I remember watching her take her morning walks while I was waiting for the bus. I remember my family gatherings. Pizza on Friday or Saturday. Pizza with sausage and peppers, which took hours to make. Remember that the second pizza is always better than the first one because the crust comes out crunchier. I always ate about 5 slices and had two more for breakfast the next day.
My father, my dad has his faults, he is one man who I can talk to and he will love me no matter what. He was capable of making the best eggplant parmesan or hand-tossed pizza, however, his lunches for school were the worst. The worst one was one day during a Spring Break that I had to spend at the Y in Denver, Colorado. We both woke up late, rushing around like two chickens. The worst bag to bring your lunch in was a plastic bag. Of course, my dad didn't care about my complexes so he threw in a chicken leg from the night before and a crusty elbow of a baguette and 50 cents for a diet coke. I remember this so fondly, so hilarious since we were always having impromptu moments. I remember from that moment that he blindly fed, or tried, because I didn't eat the chicken. I remember he just did what had to be done. Isn't that what dads' are for? At least single dads? They do things because it had to be done and if they didn't who would?
// posted by Mexirican @ 12:07 AM 
