Past lives and reunions

For about nine months, I spent between and hour and 90 minutes every morning and afternoon mostly staring at the rear bumpers of cars.

I had started a new job before moving to where I live now, and the highway wasn’t equipped to handle the traffic, even with the addition of the breakdown lane as a traffic lane during rush hour — such a Massachusetts thing to do instead of … I don’t know, coming up with ways to lessen congestion or make it more palatable.

Also, for most of that time, there was a construction project that had been going on since approximately the first horse path was carved from the ground and may have just been finished.

Needless to say, I don’t miss it.

They had a lot of catching up to do over dinner, enough that I had to pick up one of my wife’s stories so she could catch her breath long enough to eat some of her pizza.

Enough so that even though our waitress told us multiple times that there was no rush, you could tell she was really hoping we would leave eventually.

It’s not a trip we take often anymore, but we did it last night because we were meeting a woman who worked for my wife as an intern a dozen years or so ago and they’re still good friends.

We used to get together more regularly, but it had actually been about four years before last night.

She still looks the same, except that the young woman in her early 20s is now a woman in her early 30s. The on-again, off-again kinda-boyfriend, sorta-not is now fully on, and they live together near Washington, D.C., where she does remote and off-site work (plus occasional trips to Massachusetts), for the place where she and my wife used to work.

They had a lot of catching up to do over dinner, enough that I had to pick up one of my wife’s stories so she could catch her breath long enough to eat some of her pizza.

Enough so that even though our waitress told us multiple times that there was no rush, you could tell she was really hoping we would leave eventually.

It was a good time. It’s always a good time.

As we were wrapping up, about 3 1/2 hours later, my wife joked that we should see if we could crash at our old house.

The restaurant where we had met is the one where we had always met when we were living in our previous house, which was about 10 minutes away.

My last memories of the old place were watching “Back to the Future” in our now-former living room and petting the new owner’s sweet puppy while I waited for the moving truck to come back so we could finish loading it at the end of a very, very long day.

It wouldn’t have been convenient to go check out the old place, since the restaurant was right off the highway, but I’m not sure I would have wanted to even cruise the old neighborhood, anyway.

I did that once, driving down the road on Cape Cod where we once had lived. The guy who bought that house from us was kind of sketchy, anyway — we didn’t care that much once the check had cleared — and he had basically turned the place into a dump.

It was pretty sad.

The guy who bought our last house, assuming he’s still there, seemed a lot more responsible, but it’s still probably for the best that we let it be, even though we could see where we buried three of our cats.

It was a time in our lives, a good time, but now it’s done.

I do miss being able to say we lived on Easy Street, though, even if it was only literal.

There are two possible reunions I could go to this year, and I’m still trying to decide whether I want to go to either, neither or both (although the latter is highly unlikely).

My high school graduating class is part of a reunion in August. Even though it won’t be 30 years since my graduation until next year, our high school is small enough that multiple classes have a reunion at the same time.

Ten years ago, for example, I went to a 19th, 20th and 21st reunion. This year, it’s not only for the classes of 1988 through 1990, but the class after mine, as well.

The reunion is in the Albany area, so it’s pretty convenient, a relatively short drive and I can stay with my parents or my brother. There will probably be quite a few people I’d be happy to see, along with the ones who it would be too soon if I never saw them again.

The only possible issue is that it’s on a Friday night, and while I could most likely be able to cut out of work early enough, I’m not sure if my wife would be able to, and I’d like her to come if she could.

A month or so later is my college’s Reunion Weekend, which they have every year but because of the distance, I’ve only gone on five-year anniversaries in recent years, like this year, which is 25.

Going back to my old college leaves me feeling revived and refreshed — whatever organization promotes Utica, New York, should really hire me for all the money — but there’s only one thing I worry about.

Who am I going to see?

Although I’m sure they’ll be there at least part of the weekend, most of the professors I used to visit, including one whose class I would sit in on, have retired, and a lot of my best friends from college don’t go.

I always go out a day early, since it’s pointless to drive all that distance to basically stay just for Saturday before I have to go home, but I’m not sure if it’s worth it anymore.

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One thought on “Past lives and reunions

  1. Pingback: Senior days – A Silly Place

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