Homecoming

Two weekends ago I ventured back to Red Wing for a long-time friend's wedding. It is always so strange, going home. And as I edge further from 15 and closer to 30, it gets even stranger.

I can't get used to running into high school classmates who look like bloated versions of themselves, have children or who've undergone some of life's extreme joys or pains already. I'm sure it's no different for many of them. I know I, too, am a distorted version of my former self. Our bodies show age (I know we are young, but it is quite different from those lanky or baby fat or athletic days). Our minds show wisdom and growth. Our faces show the remenents of life lived. And it always grounds me, no matter how weird or sad or wonderful my visit is. I remember simpler times in life; times that often felt quite complicated.

As I sat around the table with my dear friends during the reception, I was amazed. I'd known these women since we were akward, teenage girls. Now, here we were, some married, some with children and all with integrity and accomplishment. I couldn't be more proud of us. Fifteen years ago, we probably spent time wondering where we'd be and who we'd be -- perhaps even dreaded it or worried about how it would all turn out.

We share that bond only those who've gone through the hell called adolecense together can share, and we are forever connected because of that. We may talk a handful of times a year and see one another once or twice, but we are always picking up right where we left off, always ready to share one another's joys and pains. It is fascinating to analyze the circumstances under which friendships form and how those friendships evolve or dissolve with us. What keeps some people in our lives indefinitely while others --sometimes even those we cherish--dissappear. But that's another post...