On May 29, 1981, we were mostly 18-year-olds ready to catch a ride on the coattails of life and change the world.  We waltzed across the stage, grabbed a diploma, and ran out to live. 

That was a long time ago. 

We had a class reunion this past Saturday, April 15.  A lot has happened between those two dates.

To be exact, 15,296 days have happened. Over 2,185 weeks, 504 plus months, almost 42 years! 

We thought then we were mature, fully grown, but 70% of our days have been since that warm May 1981 evening.

That’s a lot of living, a lot of successes, lot of mistakes.

While perusing the 1981 Angleton high school yearbook beforehand, it hit me, kind of hard, that some of my memories are blurry, really blurry.  Even the most vivid memories are a bit sepia toned fuzzy.

I do, however, clearly remember the feelings. 

I can still feel the joys and laughter from high school, like a puppy seeing and experiencing everything as a new, curious source of entertainment. 

The sound of the classroom bell immediately followed by hundreds of students chattering up the hallways in organized chaos.

The precocious insecurities when self-esteem rattled its sabers of inferiority, and something as simple as a zit was earth shaking. 

Feeling free riding in the 73 Malibu with the windows down because the air conditioning didn’t work.

The contentment of crossing Intercoastal Bridge and seeing the vast expanse of ocean and Surfside Beach.

The curiosity of repeatedly circling through Sonic on Saturday night just to see who was there.

The football adrenaline rush while warming up on the field as the Purple Pride drum core thumped out a tune for the band to march in the stands for Friday night lights.

The hilarious embarrassment of being red faced in the school cafeteria after plopping down with a lunch tray, only to have a dozen funny friends immediately jump up and leave me sitting alone acting as if I had just passed gas.   

The feeling of regret for not extending more grace to several who desperately needed more kindness.

The confidence of knowing I could’ve figured out the Elementary Analyses problem, but perfectly content not making any effort to do so.

The feelings. I remember them clearly! 

Sometimes they swung wide. There were highs and lows, accomplishments, struggles, ups and downs, all swinging back and forth, to and from on the pendulum of time; time that’s gone way too fast.

It was so refreshing Saturday to reconnect with mostly 60-year-olds!

Maybe I’m just selfish, but I wish I could’ve sat down with every person there for at least an hour.  I wish I could listen to each and every one talk about their life, what they’ve done, where they’ve been, and what they’re planning from here. 

We’ve all changed, all aged to one degree or another.  Yet for those who were there, and those not able to make it this time, we are far more fortunate than so many of us who have already passed on from this life to the next.

Maybe we’ll have another reunion soon.  I don’t know.  I do know though that roots, particularly shared roots, are a powerful thing.

I am unduly blessed to have those roots!

When the time was done, we all left, all going back to our regular lives. 

Leaving though, it brought back the same familiar feeling as 1981. The feeling of saying goodbye, again, and wondering if some of us will ever get to say hello once more.

Maybe.  I hope so.