Class of 83 reunion

(Partial) Class of 1983

What to wear?

Are my roots showing?

Do I need to get my mustache waxed?

These were some of the things that I was thinking about in the days before my 30 year high school reunion.

Then, of course, there were also these thoughts: Who’s going to show up? Will the women all be fat and the men bald? Will my first, second and third crushes be there? Will I still think they are cute?

After changing my outfit twice, applying HD foundation and borrowing a few things from my mother, I walked in to my reunion. Almost thirty years to the day after my graduation.

And it wasn’t what I had expected.

I don’t keep in touch with many people from high school. Other than my BFF, I keep up with a few here and there through Facebook.

So my expectation was that sure, it would be nice to see some of my classmates. And interesting to see some of the others.

But what I got was so much more.

And I’m kind of embarrassed that I thought it would be otherwise.

The night was cozy. And comfortable. And filled with lots of laughs.

I mean these are people who I knew from the time I was in 7th grade. Young. We were a small class. Less than 90 kids. And we grew up together: physically and emotionally.

I went through all of my teenage milestones with them. The first time I got high. The first time I got drunk. And threw up at a party. The first time I obsessed about a boy. The second time I obsessed about a boy.

There were heartbreaks and triumphs. We had parents who got divorced. There were people around us who died.

And then we graduated together, heading out in to the world to all do our own thing.

I had forgotten how close I felt to these people, my classmates. Who I know since way back when.

The evening went by too quickly. Way too quickly. I could have stayed longer, playing musical chairs as the evening wore on, moving around the room to talk to everyone who was there.

It was a very memorable, boisterous night. Hair catching on fire. Hand shadow dogs barking at our senior picture slideshow. A few broken wine glasses. And a bromance.

My husband, who didn’t go to school with us and only knew two other people walking in to the party, had the time of his life. He said it almost felt like it was his reunion.

And while the girls looked good. Really good. The boys? Wow, they looked even better. Sure, some of them had a little less hair but what a handsome bunch.

I woke up the next morning smiling. Running through my head were thoughts of all those I had talked to. What a reunion.

Class of 1983, you are awesome. And forever in my heart.

 

Photos from 2 Events

What a difference 30 years makes. Or does it?

Top Image via Mycki Ratzan