This weekend, I had to travel to Boston to visit some family. After spending an ungodly amount of time at the airport and sitting near a couple of unruly kids, my mom and I arrived in the city, and my dad wasted no time in showing us around.
He drove us past his old neighborhood. He showed us where he played basketball and attended school. He even took us to Simco’s. If you aren’t from Boston, then Simco’s is a restaurant that serves the best shellfish, fried dough, and any other fattening food. My uncles could go on for days about how good their food is.
After eating at Simco’s, we headed over to my cousin’s grandma’s house. Uncles sat outside puffing on cigars and trading childhood stories. Aunties sat inside reminiscing while their kids ran up and down the block. And cousins laughed about all the trouble they used to get into. Chatter continued well into the evening over plates of Chinese food and cups of fruit punch. During the later hours, a few of the kids (myself included) would chase down the ice cream truck.
I wouldn’t get back to my hotel room until the early morning, my limbs weighed down with fatigue. My cousin and I would clamber onto the hotel bed, eagerly turning on Netflix, and falling asleep before the webpage could even load. The next morning, I would be so tired that I would almost regret staying out so late.
Truthfully, I would sacrifice all the sleep in the world if it meant spending one more second with my family.