A few months ago one of my high school classmates and her husband came to visit my family.
They are in the process of building and wanted to get some ideas. They took the five-hour drive from Chicago with two kids in tow and made it all the way to Missouri.
We had such a great time that same friend organized a weekend trip for three more of our classmates to come up with her this summer.
I was so excited to know that I would be reuniting with four of my high school friends whom I actually have known since junior high. You can imagine, we have quite a history.
When my husband found out the girls were coming for an entire weekend, he decided that was too much perfume, hair rollers and talking for him.
He politely packed the bags for sons number two, three and four and took them to a nearby hotel for some man time. (Son number one was at a basketball camp.)
All week long I prepared for my guests. I went shopping, bought flowers, purchased cards and fresh linen, hoping the weekend would be so enjoyable for everyone.
They arrived with smiles and conversation. Before they had their bags put away we had already discussed the decorations in my home, the fact that we had so much to catch up on and which one of us would sleep where.
The entire weekend we laughed as I brought out the old yearbooks.
We could not believe some of our hairstyles. The clothing were “so ’80s,” and we all were thinner back then.
We talked about family, our past and our futures. Sometimes we laughed until our sides hurt, and other times we cried as we shared our deepest pains.
One evening as I said goodnight to my guests, I went to my room and sat quietly for a moment. I could not get the image of us so many years ago walking those high school halls out of my head.
We were all so innocent then – no worries, no bills, no spouses or children. Our future seemed so full of promise, and we thought we were so grown up.
Most of us had never even worn a full face of makeup and certainly had not driven out of town by ourselves. Where did those days go?
Now we are responsible for the next generation in our children; between the five of us, we have 13. We have homes to take care of, jobs to go to and some of the same worries that our parents had.
Our future seems shorter, indeed it is, but our love has grown stronger for one another.
When we were in high school our titles were cheerleader, gymnast, softball player, volleyball player and track runner. Now we consist of a doctor, author, teacher, administrator and social worker.
Between us we have survived threats of cancer, tumors, death of parents, divorce, remarriage, single parenting, career choices, returning to school, raising teenagers, overcoming setbacks and a host of life’s ups and downs.
By the end of the trip, my eyes filled with tears as I thought about how special the weekend was.
My heart leaped with joy as I knew I would see them again soon, because we had already planned our next get-together.
Something about getting older and wiser, you start to make time for those who mean the most. And, for those that mean the most, there is never enough time.
Linda, Pam, Deborah and Kawan …
Thanks for sharing.