Reunion

It was a long siege. Back pain is all encompassing. Freedom from it is nirvana. I woke this morning able to walk normally, bend over without screaming, and get my pants on without any assistance. Progress? I’ll take it!

I have a short trip planned this month, and don’t want to miss it, so I’ll be tentative and careful so as not to have to suffer through it. I have a class reunion and need to be my scintillating, sparkling self, as will be expected. But not a big concern, it won’t be all about me. This is a 60th class reunion, likely our last….duh, you think? and the turnout is expected to be high. This distance is not too far to travel, and the turn around is quick. So I’ve not committed to a long time away. Retirement means we have no schedule and can come and go as we please. So we tend to make short, interesting trips reasonably close by.

I’ve dug out my class yearbook and think I’ll take it with me, get as many folks as are willing to sign it, for the last time. I find myself wondering who will be there. And who won’t. This has never been my thing, and I’m not sure why I’m interested this time. Likely because “last” is on the docket. And because life is slower these days. And because I find I really do want to see some of these people. Where do they live, what’s their condition, who came, who didn’t. And why.

I put together our tenth. Mu husband was out of the country, so I had all the time in the world to locate all but four of my classmates to make a personal invitation. It was great fun. So many to catch up with.  And I was still local, as were many of us. My husband is not much up for this, so our daughter will take him in hand for four hours, and the event will be over. At our age reunion is mostly lunch with whoever comes.

I lived where I went to high school, where I married, where I had my only child. Forty years in the same place with the same people is very anchoring. Leaving is very wrenching. I have been gone for several decades, but returned often enough to ease that pain. Still, I think of it as home and envy the good number of my classmates who never left. A small town, the county seat, nurtured me through a number of mini trials, and for my purposes, my roots are there. I stay attached, and wax nostalgic, though my husband does not. He’ll enjoy time with out daughter, without the stresses of spending half a day with nobody he knows.

Me? I’m looking forward to seeing everyone.

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