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I won’t grow up…

9 Jan

When I was a mere 1 year old, my parents bought a home in a brand new housing track.  Only a few families had moved in by the time we did, and the C family lived right next door.  They had a daughter who was a month older than me.  Up the street, the H family had 2 boys – one older than me and one the same age.  Soon thereafter, there were 6 kids in the C family and 3 in my family.  Some years later, a few of the other families on the block moved out, and the M family moved in next door on our other side and the S family moved in across the street.

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We would play ball in the street and yell “CAR” to clear the way for everyone else.  We’d play hide and seek, Atari, and make our own clubs. 

Our moms were moms to everyone.  C Mom taught me how to cook Italian food, amongst other things.  I loved being in her kitchen. 

When the C Family moved.

Through the years, we all have stayed friends.  Though the C family moved out of state when I was 17, we all have remained close and half of the kids have since moved back to California.  We’re more than just friends, we’re our own family.  We’ve seen eachother through our childhood, school years, parents divorces, our own relationships, and even having our own kids.  We’ve travelled back and forth collecting many mileage points to see eachother.  We have been in too many weddings to count. 

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My brother’s was the latest and we got a great group shot.

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I love these guys!  They’ve all ended up with great spouses and have turned out to be beautiful people.

I hope that one day when we get settled in, that my own kids will be lucky enough to find and keep such wonderful friends as I did.  This group knows more about eachother than we care too, and we wouldn’t trade it for anything.

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