I couldn't tell you which family BBQ happened when. After a while, they all start to blend together. But I remember what they felt like. Lumpia. Pancit. BBQ sticks. Rib tips. Burgers. Hot dogs. Pizza. Spaghetti. Macaroni salad. Watermelon. Sometimes corn. And, of course, halo-halo. There was always too much food, which probably meant there was exactly the right amount. The host usually made most of it, but you were expected to bring something to share. So everyone arrived with food to add to a table that already had enough food. And then we'd stay for hours.
Loud, Messy, and Ours
Our family gatherings weren't quiet affairs. There was eating and kwentuhan. Teasing. Joking. Tsismis. People talking over each other. Sometimes somebody would bring up politics and suddenly everyone had something to say. Meanwhile, the kids were off doing their own thing. Or at least that's what we thought, because I've realized they were listening more than we knew. The adults would often be speaking Kapampangan or Tagalog, especially when we started talking about how we grew up, something that happened when we were younger, or some particularly interesting piece of family tsismis. One of my nieces understands but doesn't really speak the languages, while another doesn't understand them. They could be having their own conversation, but once ours got interesting, they'd suddenly slow down and start listening. One would translate for the other so she could follow along. Apparently, the kids needed to stay informed too. 😂 At the time, I don't think I thought much about any of this. It was just what our family did. The food, the noise, the stories, the laughing, the kids listening from the sidelines—it was all part of being together.
Making Up for Lost Time
My mom was the glue. She kept the families together and invited everybody. It didn't even have to be something she particularly wanted to do. She just loved seeing everyone together. I didn't fully appreciate how much that meant until I'd been away from my family for a long time. Over the years, my visits became less frequent and eventually stopped. And the longer I was away, the more I craved that big-family feeling I'd grown up with—the noise, the food, the laughing, even the chaos. So when I eventually moved back, I probably went a little overboard. I wanted the get-togethers. I wanted everybody invited. I wanted to catch up on what I'd missed and, in some way, make up for lost time. After my mom died, I was once accused of taking over for her. And yes, accused is the word I'm using. 😂 If one sister invited another sister and me over, I might call our brothers too because I naturally assumed, Of course they're invited. Apparently, that assumption was not always appreciated. But looking back, I understand that instinct a little better now. Part of it probably came from my mom. Part of it came from knowing what it felt like to be away from all of it for so long. If we were finally getting together, I wanted everybody there. And while creating Roxy & Kylo's final summer adventure, I realized I may have given that part of myself to Roxy too.
One More Time, Everybody Together
For Roxy & Kylo's 25th and final summer adventure, I knew I wanted one last hurrah. But I didn't want to end The Best Summer Ever by sending them off to do one more big thing. I wanted them to come home. And I wanted the friends who had celebrated with them earlier in the summer to come back. The same Pack together again, eating, playing cornhole and giant Connect 4, laughing, and spending one more summer day together. Nothing extraordinary had to happen. Everybody being there was the event. Maybe that's why a BBQ felt like such a natural ending. That's what the gatherings I remember were like too. There didn't have to be an attraction, an itinerary, or some spectacular moment waiting to happen. Put everybody together, add entirely too much food, and somehow the day took care of itself. For Roxy & Kylo, it also brought the summer full circle. The friends who were there near the beginning returned at the end. After 25 adventures, it wasn't about squeezing in one more experience. It was about coming back to the people who had become part of those experiences.
The Things Kids Remember
One of my favorite things now is hearing that the kids remember our family gatherings too. Not just that they happened. They remember the food, the stories, the laughing, everybody being together. Those gatherings made an impression, and they're some of the things they miss most. I love that because I don't remember us sitting around saying, Everyone pay attention. We're creating a core memory. We were just living. We were eating lumpia, talking too loudly, teasing each other and probably telling stories we'd already told before. The kids were pretending not to listen while absolutely listening. Someone was quietly providing translation services when necessary. People laughed. People ate again. And somehow, somewhere in all of that ordinary mess, memories were being made. Maybe that's the part we don't always realize while we're living something. The adults may think they're just having another BBQ. The kids may look like they're barely paying attention. Years later, though, somebody remembers the food. Somebody remembers the story everyone told. Somebody remembers how hard everybody laughed. And suddenly that ordinary afternoon wasn't so ordinary after all.
Same Camera, Same Pack
At the end of Roxy & Kylo's Summer BBQ, everyone gathers for one last group photo. It's the same Polaroid camera they used with these friends at their Pool Party earlier in the summer. Same camera. Same Pack. But now an entire summer has happened between those pictures. That's what I love about photographs. They don't hold everything. They can't capture every joke, every conversation, every plate of food, or exactly what made everybody laugh. But they leave a little marker: We were here. We were together. This happened. And sometimes that's enough to bring everything else rushing back.
What Stayed With Me
The laughing. The memories. Everybody being together. That's what stayed with me from our family gatherings, and it's what I wanted Roxy & Kylo to carry out of their final summer adventure too. You don't always know which ordinary afternoon someone else will remember years later. You don't know which story the kids are quietly listening to, which ridiculous moment will become family lore, or which picture will someday make someone say, Remember this? So maybe the point isn't to manufacture memorable moments. Maybe it's simply to keep making time for each other. Even when it's loud. Even when it's messy. Even when there's enough food for twice as many people as actually showed up. Especially then. Because sometimes the moments that don't feel particularly extraordinary while we're living them become the ones we miss the most. And maybe that's why Memories Matter.
What About You?
Roxy & Kylo ended their summer with one last Polaroid of the Pack together. If you could put one memory from this summer into Roxy & Kylo's Polaroid, what would it be?
