varying degrees of light

To drive home from Spring Break, my friends met up with my brothers and I in Chicago. I stood on the street corner, trying to direct them to where we were, where we were holding a parking spot, and talking to them on the phone. They showed, and parked and before they got out, I was asked, "Why the hell is that kid wearing those sunglasses?"
I usually like those situations when different circles of your life crash together and you chuckle to yourself because, "Oh they are going to laugh at the skinny jeans." and, "Ha. It's Alvin and a bunch of Koreans." Awesome. It was fine - really funny at times, but great and loud laughter with good food together.
And then I wrapped my arms around my brothers and friends and people I'd grown up with, or had only met a few days earlier, but because they're such good friends with my family, then they are with me too and other related connections like that.
Adam, Paul, Christina, myself and all of our junk. We drove home from Chicago, Grand Rapids, Toronto and New York to Sioux Center, Iowa to finish out the semester. Maybe we were tired. They were and I was happy to drive for a good amount of the trip because Spring Break is socially exhausting. Meeting on smaller groups, if not individually, with those people you've grown up with and trying to touch base on what has, and what will, happen. Going out with Paul to meet people at the library/going out with David to see what Hyun and Rachel and Casey are up to/seeing Andrew and Pete and, surprise!, Jennifer and so much to catch up on.
I love road trips. I love driving at night and the descending energy with the flashing lights passing the windows - everyone slowly falls asleep and you speed them gradually home, but there were a few small moments when everyone in the car was awake and dreading the return to campus.
It's a selfish thing to prepare food and have friends over, but I'm OK with it. During that quiet drive home, I decided to feed people - they work better, they generally feel better, they're being taken care of and it satisfies me anyway. Everyone can handle living in Sioux Center for a little longer, and maybe there's a little bit of escapism involved, but we do what we can do make it through and be happy. There's lots of common, reliable, intimate actions that we perform to solidify and celebrate our bonds of friendship - I might babble about the other ones eventually, but I've talked about this one before. Sadly, I haven't cooked for everyone I love, but I think I love everyone that I've cooked for. And it might have to be good enough to have that regret of always wanting to. My mom does it so she'll cook an enormous meal - heaping portions of everything hand-made, reliable dishes that her parents taught her, that we've been eating for generations really, but she'll stay for the most part in the kitchen and make sure everything is where it needs to be before sitting down with a plate herself. I remember dozens of times when my brothers and I were growing up, after such parties in Grand Rapids, before cleaning was completely done, we'd sit down and have yet another serving while she had her first. And she would usually smile with it too.
Christina wanted asparagus for a month or so, and we finally did it tonight.
OK. Time to read.