I feel so old, looking at this picture. I met these guys when I was thirteen, and although I didn’t see eye to eye with all of them at first, I grew to love them very much. This is part of my graduating class of 2012. Just nine months ago, we were still sharing each other’s company, fighting over stupid high school drama and playing pranks on each other. Some times we were childish. Others, we helped each other with love traumas like young adults. It was the kind of family I loved to be around. I truly call them my brothers and sisters.
This past weekend, I had a taste of what a lovely time I used to have with them. I decided to spend my Valentine-less V-day with my closest friends. I cooked for hours and spent a lot of money on groceries and drinks for the party, but I couldn’t have been happier about it. We drank like there was no tomorrow and shared laughs like we were in high school again. After traumatic months of college survival, breakup and familial death, it felt good to still have a second family with whom to drink Medalla and play kings.
The paths we set out to follow might have divided us. Growing apart is part of growing up. Though time passes, we become wiser and spend less time apart, we will always have these great memories of sibling rivalry, nights of endless drinking, game playing at the senior lounge and dance practice during school hours to look back to.