We just got back from a wonderful, restful long weekend at the beach. The weather was great and we had a wonderful time. However, I missed my 20th high school reunion. (Yes...I'm old!)
When I received the invitation to the reunion, I was torn. Part of me really wanted to go and another part of me really wanted to hide. I probably would have been more inclined to really want to go if a couple of my good friends were going. But one had a wedding in Chicago and the other was just as torn about going as I was. So, that left me trying to decide if I really wanted to pay $68 to stand in a corner with my husband marveling at how different everyone looked. Which wouldn’t have been much fun any way since my husband doesn’t know any of these people.
There are a handful of people from high school I would really like to catch up with. But in order to talk to them (if they even attended) would I have to endure endless small talk with people I didn’t really even talk to in high school? Or worse yet…would I end up alone in that corner with my husband because no one wanted to talk to me? I kept mulling these questions over and over in my mind.
The nosy part of me wanted to go just to see if the cheerleaders had gotten fat and if the football players were bald. And another part of me wanted to go just to say look…I didn’t get fat and my husband still has some of his hair!
But in the end, I didn’t have to decide. My parents were able to get a house at the beach the exact weekend that the reunion was to be held. Part of me let out a huge sigh of relief and another part of me was a little sad that I wouldn’t be able to go after all.
So, if any Black Knights from the class of ’87 happen to be reading this blog, sorry I missed you. I hope you had fun if you went.
Maybe I’ll see you at the 30th…I haven't decided yet if I'll go or not...