I’m going home this weekend for my high school reunion.
I graduated 30 years ago.
Thirty years is a long time.
A really, really long time.
I don’t keep in touch with too many people from high school, though my memories are fond.
I was a little shy then. And definitely a late bloomer.
But still, I enjoyed my high school years.
The Scarsdale Diet. Getting boobs. Drinking Tab. The big hair. Playing softball. Coveting my best friend’s blue velvet Calvin Klein pants.
(It’s a wonder I never had a boyfriend in high school.)
Of course, a lot has happened since then.
I’d like to think I’ve changed. For example, I’m no longer shy and I don’t drink diet soda. Though sometimes I still have big hair. And think about those pants.
Here’s kind of the Cliffs Notes version of my life since then:
I went to college and lost my virginity. (Yes, in that order.)
I backpacked through Europe with my BFF.
Then settled in NYC. (In a one bedroom illegal sublet. Got evicted on April Fools’ Day.)
I worked at Bloomingdale’s. (In the men’s underwear department.)
Then went to graduate school. (For an MBA not an Mrs.)
I worked for a newspaper.
And got married. (For the first time.)
My son was born. (My little monkey-boy.)
I moved back to South Florida. (But not to Miami.)
Then had a daughter.
I got divorced.
And was happy. (Boy, was I happy.)
I started working as a bookkeeper.
Thought about being a writer.
Fell in love and got married. (Again.)
Blended a family.
Became a writer.
And am still happy. (Most of the time. Except for when my teens are mouthy and the laundry is piled too high. Oh, and when my husband snores.)
This isn’t where I thought I would be but I’m happy it’s where I ended up.
And I’m looking forward to hearing about the lives of my classmates. I hope they’re happy where they ended up too.