It was a casual affair, with picnic tables laid with trays of watermelon and children climbing on a playground. The outside observer wouldn’t have guessed we hadn’t all been together in ten years.
But ten years had passed. And life had moved on for all of us. Families, school, careers--we were all in different places.
Yet after all these years, we were not merely still friends; in many cases, we’d grown even closer to each other.
Maybe it’s the storyteller in me, but I can’t help but sit back and appreciate how everything began.
As I talked with one friend on the playground, who had been with me on the high school literary magazine staff, it struck me how that school year never really ended. How could I have known back then that ten years later, so many classmates on that staff would be my writing group? They’ve become my tribe. They’re almost family; my children know and love them.
And then there was another friend, who sat and laughed with me as we remembered skipping class in that same park, and who, himself, is now a teacher.
And then, above them all, my wife.
Despite us having the same friends and two years in the school orchestra together, my wife and I were only aware--at least vaguely--of each other’s existence during high school. I never spoke to her until years later, when as adults we met each other in another orchestra and I said, “Valerie, right?”
Even then we never would have guessed we’d someday have four children and a house payment.
When I think about what I remember of my wife in high school--that quiet, blond-haired girl I never saw without a book--I want my teenage self so desperately to talk to her. To be her friend. To know she is the greatest thing that will ever happen to him.
But ten years had passed. And life had moved on for all of us. Families, school, careers--we were all in different places.
Yet after all these years, we were not merely still friends; in many cases, we’d grown even closer to each other.
Maybe it’s the storyteller in me, but I can’t help but sit back and appreciate how everything began.
As I talked with one friend on the playground, who had been with me on the high school literary magazine staff, it struck me how that school year never really ended. How could I have known back then that ten years later, so many classmates on that staff would be my writing group? They’ve become my tribe. They’re almost family; my children know and love them.
And then there was another friend, who sat and laughed with me as we remembered skipping class in that same park, and who, himself, is now a teacher.
And then, above them all, my wife.
Despite us having the same friends and two years in the school orchestra together, my wife and I were only aware--at least vaguely--of each other’s existence during high school. I never spoke to her until years later, when as adults we met each other in another orchestra and I said, “Valerie, right?”
Even then we never would have guessed we’d someday have four children and a house payment.
When I think about what I remember of my wife in high school--that quiet, blond-haired girl I never saw without a book--I want my teenage self so desperately to talk to her. To be her friend. To know she is the greatest thing that will ever happen to him.
If I could go back and live my high school years again, knowing she would be the most important person in my life, I would take more notice of the girl who I would someday have a life and family with.
At the very least, I’d say hi to her in the hall.
But maybe that would blow my chances with her. After all, I was kind of a weirdo in high school.
At the very least, I’d say hi to her in the hall.
But maybe that would blow my chances with her. After all, I was kind of a weirdo in high school.
 |
| Kind of? |
Still, looking back, my heart grows fonder.
And now that I have grown, when I think of how a person could take on such a major role in my life, I can’t help but appreciate everyone I meet a little more.
I don’t know where the years will take me. But I know they’ll take me there with people I know now--and people I have yet to meet.
It could be anyone.
And now that I have grown, when I think of how a person could take on such a major role in my life, I can’t help but appreciate everyone I meet a little more.
I don’t know where the years will take me. But I know they’ll take me there with people I know now--and people I have yet to meet.
It could be anyone.
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