two friends two cities: childhood reunion (lyn)

A few weeks ago I get a call from Amy, a childhood friend I reconnected with two years ago. She’s going up to Boston and plans to have lunch with Linda P. I haven’t seen Linda P since my wedding 35 years ago (the marriage was a short one). I suggest we include some others. Soon our little get together has blossomed into a bigger reunion. Ellen, Marcie, and Cheryl are added. I saw them last in 2010. And then Amy adds Debbie (someone I wasn’t that friendly with, but knew), and Evie (one of my closest friends whom I haven’t seen in over 35 years). A couple of others can’t make it, but soon a group of eight of us is meeting for brunch.

I arrive late, thinking we are meeting at 12:15, not 11:45. Everyone is already seated. It is both strange and wonderful to see everyone. Picture passing has already started (from then, not now), and multiple conversations are already in progress.

Among the group,

One is happily married to one of the guys we all hung out with; she is a grandmother though still looks like the beauty-pageant winner she was in high school. She is a professor at a college where I once spent the night when it was all-boys.

One married another husband’s brother, but has since divorced. In high school, she was smart, beautiful, and quietly wild. Let’s just say she was on a first name basis with the Grateful Dead. Her grown kids live in New York, but she prefers a country life and rarely visits.

One is a pediatrician (like her father once was), married and has two children. We were roommates after college, and had intense boyfriends (I am still in touch with mine). We never fought, even when I burned down our kitchen after making french fries.

One is a teacher who has been married for many years. She works out all the time, and it shows in her flab-less arms. I went to the senior prom with her gorgeous first cousin, who is now a successful realtor in Chatham Ma.

Another became a grandmother just in the past week. You can see her excitement as she passes around her newborn’s 8 X 12 photo.

One is a best-selling children’s author. She is happily married, has two sons, and lives in an idyllic country setting.

And finally, the best dancer among us. She is divorced, has a college-age daughter, and remembers things the rest of us have long forgotten. We started first grade together, and shared many things too private to even write about, still.

Some bring photos, yearbooks, newspaper articles, and even pamphlets from class plays. We all laugh at who we were, but remember how much fun we had. Marcie even brings a letter I wrote to her in 1978.

With others filling in memories I’d forgotten, I am brought back to an innocent time. While some of the things we did I’d never want my son to do, I have to admit, it was a magical time.

Marcie has prepared a list of things from our junior high and high school years. Names of restaurants. Teachers. Local stores. Events we all attended. Boyfriends. Places we hung out. Clubs we joined. Activities we engaged in. Who was doing it and who wasn’t. And the clothes we wore.

We all comment on how great everyone looks, and how young. But then Marcie points to the pile of reading glasses on the table; a small reminder that we aren’t 16 anymore.