High School. My twentieth high school reunion is approaching. Sarcastic “Yea”! That’s my feeling towards high school. Do I have friends from high school? Sure. However, they are not my “high school” friends. They are my friends. Do I reminisce with them about the past? No. There is hardly enough time to talk about our daily lives when we get together. Right as we get to a juicy topic, we are interrupted by a child or husband. By the time we get back to our conversation we forget what we were talking about, and we start talking about something else. Before we circle back to our original conversation, our time ends because we need to get back to our husbands and family. The lives we chose. The lives we enjoy. The past is a broken whisper. Our deafening laughter about our brutally honest testimonies as wives and mothers is what bonds us today.
I don’t even recognize the person I was in high school. I also do not have fond, endearing memories with many of my classmates. Is that rational or fair of me? No. I know I am not the only one who has matured. Do I have a distorted perception of the past? Probably.
I have no interest in schlepping myself back in time to prove how I have changed. I don’t have the energy to see how others have changed. I am happy with my present life, with my present trials and tribulations. I have no desire to stir the pot of the past.
Some may say I am hiding from the past. Maybe I am. I am happy to hide in the splendor of my present.
Am I missing out? Let me know. I would love to know your thoughts.