The reunion was not about me.
But while I process the trillions of impressions I had that night, about that night; while I reflect on the brilliance and fascination of the people who were there — which is, of course, what the reunion actually was about — I gotta buy myself some time.
And so, a pair of lists: What I got right, and what I got wrong, at my high school reunion. First up, because you should do the worst first, and because good news is harder to write than bad, here’s what I got right a couple nights ago.
And so, a pair of lists. Namely, what I got right — and what I got wrong — at my high school reunion. First up, because you should do the worst first, and because good news is harder to write than bad, here’s what I got right a couple nights ago.
Itemize with me, won’t you?
Win No. 1: I went with Sar.
I could start a whole new blog and call it “SarahGirl” or “PaperSar” and write it for the next ten years and still be unable — as a writer, you understand — to portray the wonder and depth of that woman. When I say she is my “first friend,” I mean it in the literal sense: Sarah and I knew each other in utero. Her mom and my mom have been friends longer than the two of us have taken breath.
At 5:30pm on Saturday evening, I picked Sar up at her house. Sar’s house: the house six blocks away from the Fons’s. A house I know so well, I could find it blindfolded. The house that still has the same phone number after all these years — and you better believe I still know that sequence by heart. Sar and I went to the party together and we left together. Obviously.
Win No. 2: No wardrobe malfunctions!
Darlin’, you haven’t had a wardrobe challenge until you’ve had to figure out what to wear to see classmates from 20 years ago, in a meadow, in 90-degree weather, with the very real possibility that you may consume heroic servings of vodka lemonade, not that I would know anything about that. Think about it: You must look cute, but you can’t wear your criminally hot YSL pumps — what are you, nuts?! Hello, gravel roads?? Start over. Okay, next up: You must stay cool, temperature-wise, but showing too much skin? No way, and besides: mosquitoes.
After three changes*, I went with the following: pale pink chinos; crisp white shirt w/tiny red clip-dot; super-fancy, slingback Oxford loafers I got super-cheap on clearance; and sensible-but-beguiling gold Jason Wu hoop earrings. Oh, and a watch I borrowed from my mother’s jewelry box, except it wasn’t keeping time. The battery was dead. But of course, on Saturday night, I didn’t care what time it was. And I put it back before I left.
Win No. 3: I made it.
A few months ago, I shared about my friend Heather. In that post, I confessed that while I’m not a bad friend — what would that even mean? pom-pom sabotage? hair-pulling? — I could be a more even one. Smoother, you know? It’s like, I want to show up more; I just don’t always know how. My point is that this weekend I knew how. I made it to the field, you know? I got on the train.
Tomorrow, the paces. Also, I mised you.