The Sleepover
by Derek Beltrán
I keep returning to this story my brother told me:
He had spent the night at a friends house when he was maybe 15? 14?
Him and another friend spent the night at this one friends house.
The friends dad made them breakfast the next day.
the friend who hosted the sleepover ate hungrily “its good right?” While he ate hungrily.
My brother and his friend pretended to agree as they forced fed themselves some very overcooked eggs.
Thats it.
Thats the whole story.
It just always struck me as kind of sad.
I just always felt bad for the boy who liked his dads cooking.
I dont know their whole situation maybe their mother worked early or maybe she was out of the picture or maybe she was just sleeping in because she worked late nights. But either way here is this dad that cared enough to make his son and his friends breakfast and his son appreciated it.
That just always struck me as really sad and poignant that my brother and his friend didn’t like the food; not that they weren’t appreciative, they ate the eggs out of appreciation even though they didn’t like them, but here was this kid so proud of his Dad’s eggs that he wanted his friends to try them.
Just imagine the day leading up to the sleep over:
“Dad, can my two friends sleepover?”
“Sure, son.”
“Hey Dad, can you make your famous scrabbled eggs for us in the morning?” Or migas or chorizo con huevo or whatever the hell it was.
*chuckles*
“Sure, buddy. “
I mean I’m probably reading a lot more into it than I should but there was fucking love there.
And its not all the time that you hear a story like that and if you do, how often do take anything of emotional value from it? Well this was one of those stories and one of those moments.
So next time someone tells you a dumb random little story pay attention, maybe you could blog about it later.
