Friday, October 29

Design of a decade

I received an invitation to my ten-year high-school reunion today. Ten years. Ten years, man! I can't believe it. When did I get this old? Why did no one tell me? What's truly funny about this rapid-onset aging process is that just a few weeks ago, my mother said that I was actually younger now than I used to be. And, in some sense, she's right. I've learned to let go (a skill I did not possess at 18). I've learned that enjoying life is much more important than doing the right thing, or the smart thing, every time. And I've learned that I really, really don't look good with bangs.

But do I want to go to this reunion? I don't know. I don't really keep up with my high school friends, for various reasons. I don't feel like I can summarize the last ten years in a way that is socially acceptable. ("Yeah, you look great! God, yeah! Hi, how are you? Hi, how are you? Hi, you remember me? I'm not married, I don't have any kids, and I'd blow your head off if someone paid me enough.") I do feel like I have to go, though. I don't know why, but I think this may be one of those things you just need to live through so you can say you did.

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