To reunite…or not.
I’m thinking not.
This summer, I’ve been notified, is the twenty-year reunion of my high school. Oh sob.
I declined to attend the ten year. I hated high school. Oh, the school itself was fine, but that time of my life was….not great.
I didn’t have many friends in high school. I was well liked by all accounts, but out of a class of 550 graduates, I would venture I only knew a few.
And I only had two real close friends that I ran around with.
The closer of the two, an amazing girl full of life and vibrancy and a laugh that would light up the stars…she would be the only reason I’d even want to go. To sit with her and issue the snark and self-deprecating humor and assure ourselves that we are cool despite all evidence to the contrary.
Sadly that beautiful sense of humorous snark was extinguished by cancer in 2005. It hardly seems the same without her.
The other is a lovely woman who has married and has three children. She is a stay at home mom and has become quite religious. I’m happy for her, she is happy with her life. It’s just that…she and I no longer have anything in common.
The rehashed conversation about how I remain jealous that SHE got to date the star football player AND wear his letterman’s jacket while I never not once dated in high school will only last for a few minutes.
Then we’re left with…silence.
I looked at the list of other folks who are attending and I sort of know a few but nothing there is compelling me to get on a plane and spend three days with a wan smile on my face trying to pretend like 1) this is fun and 2) this used to be fun.
The gang is meeting up Friday night at Billy’s Long Bar. An Albuquerque institution, indeed. There are probably bits of my DNA in the thrashed bar and the barf stained carpet. But that was a lifetime ago. That was a different me. And I’m disinclined to revisit that person I once was. I’ve come a long way, baby.
So despite the fact that I “should” or “it would be fun” I think I’m going to pass on the reunion again this year.
What I can’t seem to get over is…why do I feel guilty about that?
Oh the life of a recovering Catholic…….