“Patsy”.
The childlike name slips from the lips of the grey-haired man before me. His two hands reach out and enclose mine in greeting. We have not seen each other in 40 years.
The drive to the reception area of our school reunion took us through long forgotten streets and avenues. Where, once a single home had stood, now the street was filled with houses. Where had all the empty spaces gone?
“Getting excited , aren’t you?” my husband queried in a teasing way. I hadn’t said a word for quite a while and that wasn’t natural.
Yes, I was excited but I was also scared speechless. Would these strangers know me? Would I know them?
As I stepped inside the door a lady with a big smile approached me. For a second my mind went blank.
“Pat, it’s Lydia”.
Years fell away as our arms went around each other in a spontaneous hug. Within minutes others had joined us. All were wearing name tags and once I checked them it was easy to remember them from 40 years earlier.
I approached one elderly teacher who had attended and asked her if she would like me to get a chair for her. “Certainly not” she replied … and for a few minutes I felt like a fourteen year old again. She always had been a little unapproachable.
A table full of memorabilia stretched across the room. There were photo’s of long forgotten events and snapshots of long forgotten people. The table decorations included saddle shoes, old school annuals, and school sweaters. My mind was awhirl with so many images.
Dinner was announced and then for the first time in 40 years we bowed our heads together and the blessing was asked. The Amen was echoed by every voice. There was a moment of silence and then the room erupted in good natured teasing as the plates were filled. We confessed to youthful escapades, laughed at our innocence and told a few out-of-school tales. “Graduation” diplomas were presented to each of us “For Living 40 years in the ‘Real World’”.
The crowd melted into small groups, each sharing special memories. Laughter filled the room. Each face was familiar now and we spent the next hours “remembering when”. No longer intimidated by class popularity, achievements or marks, we chatted like the old friends were truly were. And then it was time to leave.
I was enveloped in several bear hugs and with a “God Bless” from a class-mate who had become a minister, I felt a Benediction had been given.
“Keep in touch.” “I’ve got your address.” “See you in five years…we can’t wait another forty.” We called back and forth as we moved off to our cars.
Smiling bravely, I waved a last goodbye and swallowed down my tears.
