Have you ever been so happy you cried? Well I have! When I was eight years old, there was a pizza shop called Not Just Pizza a few blocks away from my house. My childhood friends, Joey, Cam, and my brother, Dylan, and I went to this pizza shop every Friday night. Ironically, the pizza was awful, and every time we went, we had ice cream instead of pizza. One warm Friday evening, we all walked down to Not Just Pizza in our school uniforms, all set, with ten dollars each. Before we got to the steps, Dylan, the youngest of the group, pointed out that the big, neon “We are open” sign had been taken down. We walked up the cracked, concrete steps, but the usual greeter did not greet us. Instead, we were welcomed by two locked doors with blacked
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We slowly started talking to each other less and less, until we stopped altogether. We’d see each other occasionally, if we were outside at the same time, we’d wave, maybe shout a “hello” from a few yards over, but for the most part, we ignored each other. A few years later, in the spring of this year, I drove past where the tiny pizza shop used to be, just to discover it had been reopened. I thought of a great plan to contact my old friends and invite them to dinner. As soon as I got home, I wrote two letters, one for Joey, and one for Cam, and of course, I asked Dylan first, as his bedroom is right next to mine. That Friday rolled around, and we met up on the cracked steps of Not Just Pizza, where we’d sat every Friday night just years before. I had been looking forward to seeing my old best friends and counting down the hours since Sunday afternoon, and now they’re right next to me! We all hugged each other and greeted each other before settling in at a booth in the back corner. We all caught up with each other, ate our pizza (It was much better than it used to be. It was very cheesy, and it didn’t have a lot of tomato sauce. It smelled delicious, and the aroma alone made my mouth water.), and eventually started reminiscing. It didn’t take long before I was starting to get teary-eyed. The four of us talked for what seemed like hours, but was
We slowly started talking to each other less and less, until we stopped altogether. We’d see each other occasionally, if we were outside at the same time, we’d wave, maybe shout a “hello” from a few yards over, but for the most part, we ignored each other. A few years later, in the spring of this year, I drove past where the tiny pizza shop used to be, just to discover it had been reopened. I thought of a great plan to contact my old friends and invite them to dinner. As soon as I got home, I wrote two letters, one for Joey, and one for Cam, and of course, I asked Dylan first, as his bedroom is right next to mine. That Friday rolled around, and we met up on the cracked steps of Not Just Pizza, where we’d sat every Friday night just years before. I had been looking forward to seeing my old best friends and counting down the hours since Sunday afternoon, and now they’re right next to me! We all hugged each other and greeted each other before settling in at a booth in the back corner. We all caught up with each other, ate our pizza (It was much better than it used to be. It was very cheesy, and it didn’t have a lot of tomato sauce. It smelled delicious, and the aroma alone made my mouth water.), and eventually started reminiscing. It didn’t take long before I was starting to get teary-eyed. The four of us talked for what seemed like hours, but was