For the first time in a long time, my family was home for dinner. We had an impromptu family dinner which was even better since my three older brothers are staying with us while they work out in Carlsbad. Mom made pozole and it was just a great time. We talked about family stories, shared memories, and just had a laugh. It made me equal parts happy and sad.
I’m happy because with working two jobs and going to school full time, I don’t see my family a lot anymore. I’m usually gone before the sun is up and home long after it sets. And like. I know its for the better, it means I’m working towards a good future. Still sucks. So I treasure moments like this, where we’re able to have a true family dinner.
I’m sad because I wish everyone could see my parents like this. The majority of my friends see my parents as some sort of demonic hell figure, the bane of my angelic existence. Which, honestly I play into sometimes. Because they are the bane of my existence occasionally. But it kills me that my friends never see the good. My parents are good people, great even. They’re nerdy and goofy and sweet and kind. And yet, no one wants to even try to get to know them. No one cares, none of my friends do and it hurts. Because my parents are fucking rad. *sigh*
