What's that, you say? Have I gone back to work? Nah. Just staring down my 20th high school reunion and had a virtual meet-up with some friends to try and get something organized. [any Class of '91 readers out there? You know who you are, gimme a shout.]
So anyway, we're all there on the phone, taking time out of our individual crazy circus-act lives. I'm listening to this group of women talk. As we're saying our goodbyes, our thanks guys, we'll catch up next weeks, I am surprised by the catch in my voice.
Definitely not an attack of nostalgia. Let's be clear: I've already told y'all about how the last day of high school was the Official Beginning of my story.
I sat for a few minutes, trying to figure out why a bit of database figuring and party planning would get me all verklempt. Here's the thing: this was a conversation with a group of amazing women. Women who have done brave things, difficult things, incredibly smart things.
|A get-together in recent years. I'm 6 months pregnant. Maybe 5. Yikes, only 4? Anyway. Aren't the others fabulous?|
When you are 16, you find friends to hang with who make you laugh. Friends who are in your classes, whose parents enforce the same kind of curfews, who might run track or join cheerleading with you. You don't really pick 'em according to what kind of adult they'll grow up to be.
But I'll tell you: last night I realized that I enjoy these people more the longer I know them. I am so profoundly grateful that I can call them friends. That somehow, the years, the careers, the kids and jobs and partners and houses haven't kept us apart: that instead, we keep finding ways to find each other.
It's almost enough to make me excited about re-living the days of Kid n' Play, Depeche Mode and Bel Biv Devoe. Here's to reunion planning, even if you're not a party-planning kinda gal.