This morning, I woke with a sinking feeling in my stomach. As I drove home from Mom's house, I asked the LORD to explain it. I turned on Klove and the song that came on was my favorite Christmas song, Oh Holy Night. "Thank you, God, for knowing me". As I am three minutes from home, my cell goes off. "When will you be home? Breakfast is ready." HOME. The next song that came on was Come Home. Perfect.
The table was set and my family was waiting for me. Daniel made the fruit salad. Amanda set the table. Curtis made the eggs and bacon and had bagels and cream cheese. We sat together eating and laughed as I told of the happenings of the reunion.
It's been a long time since I have been at a bar. Five years, as I struggle to remember. After my twenty year class reunion, I went to a bar. I was still drinking then. The next day I spent on the couch. It was not going to be a repeat performance.
I don't drink. I don't smoke. I don't swear. I am a G-rated show. And I like that way.
I stayed until the end, which was midnight. That's right, I did stay up past 9 pm. I didn't fall asleep until 2 am, in my childhood bedroom. I was exhausted waking at 7 am. I had to take a little nap, to be honest. The children want to go ice skating (I'll watch). I need to be rested and not cranky for my family. They deserve my best.
When I woke from my nap, the song that was going through my head was Temporary Home. Yes, that sums up the years we spend in school.
This is my temporary home.
It's not where I belong.
Windows and rooms that I'm passin' through.
This is just a stop, on the way to where I'm going.
I'm not afraid because I know this is my
There were a lot of things I saw and heard that I would deem "inappropriate". But I placed myself in that "judgement" place. I needed to deal with those emotions that stirred inside of me. It was definitely a dark place. I prayed to be the light.
I reconnected with a few friends that were nice to me in high school. They all have aged very well; Christine, Lou, Steve, Chris, Pam and Sue. I spent some time with my childhood friend, who I NEVER see. We were inseparable for six years. But our lives took different directions. She had a child early and went back to school. I had children later and stayed at home. We get together every June for our Relay for Life fundraiser. And maybe we see each other one other time during the year.
The disappointment did sneak in. He always does. I wanted to talk to someone who was not in my high school life, but appeared on the scene five years ago. She helped me in a time when my marriage was crumbling. She sent me a "Husband Challenge" before The Love Dare. We did an on-line book study called Why Should I be the First to Change? together. But last night she was lost in the crowd. Or maybe I was. As I left at midnight, I searched for her, but didn't find her. I'll have to email her. Who says you have to wait for a reunion to get together?
I have to admit the turds were still turds (thanks Shay for that hilarious word) and I let it bug me.
The music was WAY TOO LOUD. I even went over to the DJ and in my mommy role said "can you turn it down?". That lasted five minutes and we continued to shout at the person next to us. Really? We are not 23. We are 43. We are starting to become hard of hearing to begin with! Seriously?
I didn't know any of the songs since I don't listen to secular music and I don't dance in public. I backed up because I could just see an intoxicated woman falling on me, kicking me, or stepping on my foot. The song that was playing was OH Mickey which I didn't like when I was in high school. As I backed up the guy next to me said "This is just like high school. Everyone dances while I watch." Hilarious! And so true!
He asked what I have been doing for twenty five years. How do you answer that question? I stuck with the basics. I went to college, got married, had two children and work as a daycare teacher. My story is so much longer. My story is awesome. But my story cannot be told in three minutes in a bar with the walls shaking from bad eighties music.
Maybe at our thirtieth reunion? Nah. Just email me. (firstname.lastname@example.org) We'll have lunch.