Reunion Musings

I discussed my reticence of attending my 20-year high school class reunion this summer with a friend. She asked what is the importance of the high school reunion? Why do I want to go? Admittedly at the ten-year reunion, I felt I had something to prove. Perhaps overflowing bitterness from the mean girls and guys boiled over from my Ugly Betty years known as adolescence into young adulthood prompted me to go. Hey, I have a great husband, a fun job as a children's librarian, a nice home in a darling little neighborhood, great family, friends, and fit into a size 6 black dress. Yeah yeah yeah, blah blah blah. I was the s*** and wanted everyone to know it. Yeah, whatever. I'm over myself. If you live long enough, most likely you have been slapped around by karma. Karma delivered a sucker punch to me this year. In the light of recent events in my life, with my mother's cancer prognosis, treatment, and death, the sudden death of my cat Jack, and the closing and remodeling of my library branch brought me to my knees and forced me to take a long hard look at my existence and what's important. Academic degrees, possessions, prestige, and status are nice and all, but not that important anymore. The answer I come up with is acceptance. Just to be. Just to be a part of this reunion experience. Just to screw the hesitance and the inhibition and to be. Then I can truly write my ending to this chapter, close it gingerly, and move forward. Finally. And I can carry this concept of self-acceptance into other areas of my life--new and exciting experiences. At 37, I just may be getting it. But I've always been a bit of a late bloomer. And that's okay.