My 20-year high school reunion is coming up in September.
September used to be in the far-distant future. Now, it is, like, tomorrow. This is not a big deal except that I am supposedly helping plan my class reunion and nothing has been finalized. My mom asked me about the schedule for the reunion weekend and I just laughed a maniacal, serial-killer laugh.
I’m from a small town. Class reunions are a huge deal.
There are 5 of us who are (in theory) on the planning committee. Only 1 person actually still lives in our hometown. The rest of us are spread anywhere from an hour away to actually living on a different continent. A different continent! We are kind of the shittiest reunion committee ever – at best, we have a rough outline of events. Details? Pshaw!
I helped plan the last 2 reunions. I feel like I’ve done my time. I live 4 hours away. I just want to show up. I’ll give some money, and I’ll even bring name tags or extra pop. But I just don’t have it in me to worry about what our vegan classmates are going to eat at the class picnic, or whether or not we can reserve rows of bleachers at the homecoming game.
I don’t care. I just don’t care. It just doesn’t matter to me.
Truthfully? I’m more interested in who got fat. And Facebook is pretty good for that.
Plus? In my fantasy, I will show up at this reunion and not be the prettiest or smartest or most successful (actually, this part isn’t fantasy – this is all going to be true). But I will be the most ME. And I won’t be worried that I got fat or that I’m wearing the wrong thing, or that so-and-so won’t like me just like they didn’t like me in junior high.
No, in my fantasy, I face this milestone with grace, and with love for the people who shared my childhood.
And nowhere in this fantasy am I parsing out name tags or ensuring that the tour of the new high school starts on time.
But, because I am still practiced in the ways of obligation, I can’t quite muster the gumption to say, “Fuck it. You people figure it out. I’ll bring a case of beer.” But at least I can admit that this is my dream, so that’s a start.
Did you go to your high school reunion? How was it?