October 19, 2010

Reunited (And It Feels So Good)

Posted in Fun Stuff tagged , at 8:12 pm by autismmommytherapist

I loved high school.

I know, some of you are quietly retching into your hands right now, or reliving your own glory days when you’re supposed to be working or keeping your kids alive, but I must tell my readers the truth. And no, I wasn’t popular/a cheerleader/voted class flirt, as that well-deserved honor goes to one of my vivacious and incredibly deserving best friends. I was actually a bit quiet, under-the-radar, a good girl, perhaps a tad overshadowed by my on-again-off-again-on-again-off-again high school sweetheart.

My, how things have changed.

And even though high school was a long time ago (okay, this was my 25th reunion, now it’s a REALLY long time ago), I admit, I had a smattering of butterflies as I ascended the stairs of the lovely chichi restaurant our class officers-plus-one did such a beautiful job arranging for our evening. Most of us attend sans spouse (not that I wouldn’t mind showing mine off, but he’d know exactly four people there who would be running all over the venue as much as I do, it’s not really a great deal for him), which allows for a certain flexibility for the class of ‘85 to work the room. Despite the fact that only about a third of our 218 graduates actually attend, it still took me three hours to wend my way through everyone and finally reach the buffet. Anyone who knows me understands I’m not coughing up $85 and leaving without ingesting some food and dessert. I have my standards.

There were some lovely surprises during the course of the evening. I was reunited with a friend from our “crew” who’s been MIA so long I swore he was in witness protection. I got to meet the hilarious wife of the boy who made me laugh the most in high school, and had the gratification of knowing she’ll keep him on his toes. I was able to enact the traditional “swapping of the name tags” with one of my favorite boys of ’85 (I know, there’s a boy theme going on here, but remember the ex, no time to be a slut). I managed to work the room well, and according to the pictures I’ve seen I feel I pretty much hit everyone with those brief but informative conversations (hell, reunions are just a less awkward version of speed dating). Four hours in however and the lights came on, then they REALLY came on, and the magic was concluded. The eighties, although they never really die, were put back to sleep once more.

I look forward to this event every half decade, enjoy that first moment when I’m thrilled I not only recognize someone but don’t have to stare at their cleavage and pretend I’m not trying to read their name tag. I’ve known some of these people and their families since I had my first set of teeth, and it’s amazing how the memories resurface. I have close ties with my college friends, teacher buddies, autism mommies, and my Washington posse, but I confess there’s no other group in my life that can make me remember both how it feels to be young again, as well as remind me who I was, while simultaneously letting me acknowledge who I am now. It’s a hit every few years of pure, unadulterated, childless freedom, usually with a bit of gossip mixed in to boot.

In a word, simply delicious.

As I wove my way through the room, looking to chat with people I once really connected with and are no longer, through geography, children, and the vagaries of life, actually in touch with, I knew more fun was still to come. With a lot of planning and husband-pleading, I was fortunate enough to get the night “off”. This, of course, means a delightful post-mortem of our reunion will cap off the evening as I chat with two of my dearest, one who’s a gifted writer and grows annoyingly younger every year, and the other who’s the bravest and funniest woman I’ve ever met. In some way, as I walk around and fend off the offer of yet another drink because (sadly) I’ve offered to be designated driver for this (and only this) event, I know despite the stories shared, the adventures remembered, the revival of perhaps the only naughty thing I did in my four-year stint (nope, not sharing), talking with the other two-thirds of my triad deep into the wee hours of the morning will be the best part.

And as I grasp more tightly the drink I’m nursing through the better part of the evening, I listen as my classmates wrap themselves in remember-whens like a warm, familiar cloak, and am happy we’ve been given this chance, however briefly, to return to a time when everything was possible.



  1. It sounds like everyone had a great time. I wish I could have bee there. Thanks for sharing your night!

  2. Kathy M said,

    Loved seeing you!! We had so much fun! Too many years to count, my friend, and so many good times. Thank you!

  3. jeanne said,

    Look at your shiny, shiny hair.

    I had my 25th this past weekend also (but I don’t think that I had nearly as much fun as your did)!

    • Sorry to hear that! Yes, it’s pathetic how happy my shiny hair makes me, should have done it a long, long, time ago…

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