Flying home from the reunion I feel the waves of nostalgia rolling over me. Tears burn my eyes. I am sad and happy at the same time. I wonder about lost moments and missed connections yet am happy about the choices I have made. An old friend seems happy, settled into her life like a pair of soft favorite blue jeans. It fits her. I wonder what its like to be her. To have a husband that adores her even as the wrinkles appear and the years go by. To have kids that throw their arms around you and say " you are the best mom." I wonder what I have missed.

The reunion was strange, a sea of faces that once held familiarity and friendship, now a room of strangers. Tentative greetings and then excited exclamations and hugs. The stories of our lives, the last twenty years, exchanged in ten minute, bite-size portions. Obligatory photos of kids, wives, husbands, pulled out. I am an imposter, I have none of these. No one cares about my dog or my house or my car or flower gardens or how many computers I have or my cool job. This is not my tribe.

I spend more time talking to the men, who care about the job, getting more details about their accomplishments, than with the women who are the worst offendors of people who feel their worth is determined by the number of offspring.

I spend an evening with 2 close friends. One is finally happy. Proud of the way her life has turned around. Cool kids, great husband. She glows with it. The other brims with sadness and an emptiness that isn't filled by the husband or what they have. I am torn. Is it worse to be happy and alone or married and sad. What is it I think I have missed?

Ultimately we must all love ourselves first and be happy with our oneness before we can be a confident two. I think this is where the one friend has succeeded over the second.

A newly re-found friendship bursts with possibility. He is in the horrible stages of new separation and imminent divorce. I am 3000 miles away.

The goodbye kiss was tender and chaste. Platonic? Maybe, maybe not. There is a hint of promise. Of something yet to be.

Potential.

Erin, I care about your dog, your house, your car, your flower gardens, and how many computers you have (not to mention cameras and bikes!)

-- john