I can’t remember the last quiet moment I had to write anything more than a check to the babysitter. Been working, been shelling out half my pay to next-door neighbor’s recent college grad daughter to watch kids while I work. Monday their “summer camp” starts and my pay-rate goes back up. Except that I don’t really want to work so much. I want to paint. Why does this seem to be too much to ask, always? Work I will, tho. It is what must be done. It will be done. On earth, as it is in heaven.
For some crazy-ass reason I went to my 25th high school reunion tonight. Mainly chatted with people I’m already on semi-regular social terms with over the past 25 years, probably would have chatted with more had I ingested alcohol, which I didn’t, since I had to drive a bit of a distance home, in the dark. I don’t like driving at night. Anyway, the compulsion to go was there, so I went. Tried not to make too much eye contact with too many peeps, didn’t want to make a lick of extra small-talk than I was already being forced to. The pleasant surprise of the evening were a few intelligent, funny chats with the first boy I ever kissed. Seventeen years old, a little champagne, blissfully fantastic first kiss. Nothing happened afterward, just that. I believe Michael Jackson had something to do with it, too, along with being tipsy for the first time. Anyhoo, it was an easy conversation to get back into (not a convo about kissing, but just life), and this person I had not been in touch with for over 25 years proved to be delightful, still, sans teenage nervousness and anxiety. I probably lack those attractive traits now, too. Or maybe I’m just fooling myself. Whatever, dude.
Came home happy to see my way-hot husband, not worried about the weird cliques that do or don’t populate the cinder block, high-school halls. What a relief to be a grown up! Don’t miss high school one bit. Middle age, you are my friend.
I miss you, 20fingers, 20toes. I want us to start spending more time together. I don’t like how we’re drifting apart…