Last weekend I got bold and attended my 25 year high school (year 10) reunion…but I almost didn’t go.

Shel wanted to come along to the reunion

Eighteen months ago things my Facebook feed started filling up with faces from my past. Faces that I’d shared classes with in the mid-eighties. Faces that I hadn’t seen since the mid-eighties for no other reason than life got in the way.

And then the inevitable happened.

One thing led to another as more and more Creekers came online.

A reunion was suggested.

And organised.

We were all invited.

I almost said no straight away.

It’s not that I hated high school, or that I was bullied. I wasn’t. It’s just that I was a major nerd. A loner. I hung out with kids in the next grade up. I figured I’d be a fish out of water if I went to the reunion…and seeing how I am so at ease <sarcasm/> at social events anyway…………I thought it would be easier to stay home.

But then I started chatting to people on Facebook and old relationships started to reform, and I started toying with the idea of actually attending the reunion.

I met up with a couple of people for coffee through the year to test the waters in the hope that if I did go to the reunion…I’d have someone to talk to. I was glad I did! It was a wonderful thing to hear about how people have lived all these years.

So I bought my ticket to the reunion….and then proceeded to swing from being excited to being terrified depending on which way the wind blew. (Yes I’m irrational…so sue me )

Then the bios and photos started to circulate. All these wonderfully articulate and successful people! Eeeek! I nearly tore up my ticket. I allowed the prevailing tabloid wisdom surrounding the measure of a successful career woman to make me feel “less than”. How could I compete with that? I don’t have a high powered job. I’m not thin and beautiful. I’m just a suburban mum sporting 40 years worth of wear and tear.

Then I slapped myself and remembered that I don’t have to compete. I love my life. I love my family. It’s all mine, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. (George Clooney not withstanding)

And I was fine with that. For a couple of weeks. Until the day of the reunion.

Getting ready to go out was almost as bad as getting ready for the year 10 formal. My hair would not behave back then (I remember washing it three times before I could get it to do what I wanted it to do), and it was not going to behave this time either. I went through four different outfits before I found one that I liked, and was ready WAY too early. I felt like I was 16 again. Butterflies and all.

As it turns out the reunion was a lot of fun. Swapping stories about which teachers we had crushes on and which ones would be jailed for being pervy these days was a riot. Hearing about the ups and downs of parallel lives was amazing.

I had a hard time recognising a lot of people, mostly because I really didn’t hang around with many of them at school, but the funniest thing for me was having people come and have a chat that I KNOW never spoke to me in high school (you know how the “in” crowd works don’t you? Yeah, the nerds don’t really get a second look do they?). I was grateful that I had taken the time to meet up with some people beforehand, it was like having a safe base

I’m glad I went. If there’s ever another I think I’ll be less angsty. I hope so anyway.

Maturity and perspective are curious things. We’re all just people. I hope we don’t wait another 25 years before we get together again!

Life is growth. Live and learn.

Have you ever been to a reunion? How did you like it?

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