First of all, let me just say that I’m feeling incredible pressure to actually pay attention to my writing after so many of you said you’ve read my blog. Whether that means one post I put up on Facebook, or if you check in regularly. So let me just put that out there so I can move on with my usual rambling. Because while I feel the pressure, I’ll never get this post done if I actually have to think about it.
Me, at my core
This weekend I reconnected with people who knew me when I was six years old…the same age the Twofer are now. These people know me at my core. Together we experienced our first crush, first kiss, first loss. Together we got through that awkward stage where our bodies were growing faster than our minds. These are the people that helped me develop my sense of humor, sarcasm, and self-confidence. We experimented with breaking the rules… and the law, and learned about consequences. These are the people that know me at my very basic.
These are the people who knew me before I was a wife, a mother (and thus a neurotic), a blogger, and a social media junkie with 8 email accounts. Seeing them reminded me again of who I really am. Because sometimes I have a lot going on, and I forget.
We still get it (not to be confused with we still GOT it, though we do)
After 20 years, we still ‘get’ each other. We may not like everyone, but we understand where we came from, and the history that binds us together. There is a respect for the town...as small and boring as it is, and, I found, a respect for each other. For all the many paths we’ve taken, we still find the path home. And most of us found it comforting.
There were laughs, there were tears, and there were apologies made for things left unsaid for 20 years. There was, of course, alcohol streaming through many of our veins but let’s not ruin this mushy post with those details.
I want this for my girls.
The Twofer are making friends now that I hope will last a lifetime. The scene is very different. There are dozens of high schools in this area whereas we had only one. There is a larger gap between the kids that ‘have’ and those who don’t. But I hope that this little neighborhood of mine will provide a strong sense of community, and yes, let’s call it obligation. They may not like everyone all the time, but they will have a history with them. These are the people they will turn to when they need to remember who they are at their core. And 20 years from now they will meet up for a reunion and laugh, love, cry and make amends.
Because history tells us to.
Thanks to those who came, and those that couldn't but contributed photos, memories and laughs. Also thanks to those who supplied the bathtub full of beer (just like the old days).