Wednesday, June 16, 2004

off to the races

I leave for my ten-year college reunion this afternoon and I'm surprisingly prepared. My clothes are all neatly folded in my suitcase, I've got a stack of 90's cds ready to go for the radio show I'll be hosting with some friends, my plane ticket and passport are safely tucked away in my carry-on bag.

But I'm most proud of my emotional preparedness (is that even a word?). Packing was the easy part- after all, we're not going to do much more than sit around drinking and reminiscing for four days straight. But the emotional baggage? It'doesn't always fit into the suitcase so easily.

I was worried that I'd be an emotional mess with all of this infertility stuff that recently reared its ugly head. And while I haven't come to terms with it 100%, let's just say I'm not spending my days weeping into the bedcovers. (I was for a while, believe me.) But now I feel ready to meet the off-spring of my classmates and feel something other than jealousy and resentment.

I didn't go to my five-year reunion because I didn't feel "ready". I was a broke grad student at the time, in-between relationships and I just wasn't quite sure that I could handle my fellow alums' stories of their story-book weddings, full-rides to Harvard, latest million-dollar investments, nominations for the Nobel Peace Prize.

Looking back, I realize that I could have held my own at the five-year reunion. Just as I am confident that I can hold my own at the ten-year. So what if I'm unemployed, am unable to have kids the "normal" way, am living in a country that makes me crazy, am fifteen pounds heavier than I'd like to be? The whole point is to see people I haven't see in ten years, to remember the good old days, to drink and get nostalgic, to marvel at the new buildings on campus, to comment on how young the underclassmen look and act, and to drink some more.

And as my husband is quick to remind me, things could always be worse. I could have been unemployed since graduation, dying of some dreadful disease, living in a cardboard box, carrying around one hundred and fifteen pounds of extra weight. Compared to that, things are pretty good.

So, I'll be back here in a little less than a week to report on the whole experience. I figure if I'm lucky, the cafeteria food is still as awful as it used to be and I might even come home a couple of pounds lighter.


Blogger spiller said...

Gringa dearest-

You could never be employed again, you could weigh 400 pounds and have a disease that makes you drool constantly and sprout a third eye, you could live on a park bench and wear a garbage bag and not shower and be covered with bird poop and you would still be better and brighter and smarter and more beautiful and loving and generous and fun to be around than 99.9% of the people on this planet.

And don't you forget it.

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