As a child, my brother, sister, and I would always tag along with our dad to wash his car. I doubt that we were ever much help, but we thought we were working hard and I’m certain we enjoyed the quality time with our dad. While summer days were filled with car washing (and other chores), I distinctly remember summer nights where we would drive to the convenience store to get a slushie. Considering these miniature outings now, they resonate with me as a time of togetherness, family.
Yesterday afternoon, in the company of a good friend, my roommate and I passengered as our friend chauffeured us to the carwash behind our house. As soon as the car was in park, he took the lead, scrubbing the Texas-sized bugs and dirt off my car and we stood there, doubting that there was much we could do to stop the human car-washing machine in front of us. Eventually, we grabbed a couple rags and scrubbed the tires and shammied the interior. As we buffed my car back to shiny, we shared simple conversation.
After approving my car’s cleanliness, we all hopped back in, Jade and I politely requesting we cruise to the local raspa (snowcone) stand. Unlike childhood, I didn’t order a cherry slushie, but I did slurp down my mango, chamoy (pickled plum sauce), chili, and lime raspa just as quickly as my childhood self sucked down the bright red icy juice.
Raspas in hand, we ran to a another friend’s house to pick up a newspaper clipping he reserved for us and then we stopped at one of the six Dollar Generals in our little border town and picked up the necessary ingredients to make gluten-free cocoa krispie treats. Before stationing ourselves on our fastly wearing couches for the night, we rented a movie from the nearest redbox.
Our night convened in sugar-induced laughing fits while we watched Bridesmaids and indulged in our recently made treats.
Last night, for the first time since I’ve lived on the border, I felt like I had family aqui. Perhaps it was the activities that resonated so closely with those I participated in with my family as a child or perhaps it was the people I was with. Regardless, I felt like I was innately close, inherently tied, to the people and activities that passed my time.
My roommate, our friend, taught me that loving is family, even if blood isn’t the common bond.
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