Thirty Five Years Later ...

I received an invitation to my 35th Year School Reunion a few weeks ago. At first glance, I was intrigued and excited about the idea of going back in time and seeing those that I once knew throughout my school years. Then I scanned the two pages of graduates that they are looking for ...

Each and every one of the people that I think of, when I think back on my school years was on that list. From the group of us that used to meet up and walk to school together ... to those that I was closest to in my junior high years ... to the names of the guys that I used to have crushes on. They were all on that list.

I have kept in contact with two people from my school years. One of those friends, I met in grade six. The other, I met in grade ten. That is it. Other than a few rare school-friend-sightings (where a friend of mine recognized my mom or my brother or their name) over the course of these past three decades, I have completely broken away from my school friend bonds.

As I thought of the list of the names that I recognized on that 'missing list', I realized that I made one new friend in my high school years. At least that is what I remember. Are my memories from junior high years meshing with my high school years? I hope so. Because if they aren't, I believe I must have been what one must call a hermit or a recluse or afraid of the world in my high school years ...

I pulled out my high school yearbook and counted up 426 in our Grade 12 year. Two hundred and fifty six of those students are on the 'missing' list. I know from talking to the two friends that I have kept in touch with, that at least three of the lost have been found.

I know that we can't go back in time, but I have rekindled long, lost friendships by being present and available for the opportunity to get reacquainted with someone I once called 'friend'.

Will I attend that reunion? The jury is still out on that one. If I knew that I would cross paths with just one person that I have lost touch with I might.

My biggest fear? That I would walk through that door and people would look at me and wonder if I had ever attended that school. Because I felt invisible in those days ...

Perhaps what I am seeking is the hope that one person did notice and remember me back from the days where I blended in with the walls. I long for the feeling that comes from learning that you did make an impact somewhere in your life ... without realizing it at the time.

My bigger hope? That if I did make an impact ... that it was a positive one. And that is the scariest thought of all. To go back in time and hear that someone remembered who you were for all the wrong reasons.