This past weekend, the Alhambra Senior High Class of 1988 reunited to celebrate our 20th anniversary. It was a mind-blowing experience. Fellow classmate Theresa wrote a great personal account of Saturday’s party that captures the experience perfectly.
For me, the most intense and immediate emotion I felt all weekend was something like sensory overload. My brain was getting so much new information, some visual and some analytical. Everyone looked a little different but were immediately recognizable. For people I hadn’t seen for at least 10 years, I had to reach through time and connect my memories of them then to how they were interacting with me now.
There were some people who I don’t think I said three words to in school, but I knew their faces and I knew their names (even if I couldn’t put them together at first). But conversation with them could hardly be more natural. It was a powerful realization that these were people who share a life experience that’s hard to capture elsewhere.
Part of me was feeling a bit sad at the end because I didn’t spend enough time with anyone, and some people I completely missed! I found myself aching for more time, or time alone with each of them.
It’s taken a bit for me to process the information and emotions of this past weekend, but I think I’ve figured it out. It’s love. It’s the feeling that these people are so valuable to me. That they exist simply makes me happy. The potential for good times with them is infinite. I didn’t want it to end. I wanted to be back in 1988, spending all day with these people again.
To me, love–as a feeling–is the identification of something you value most of all. But it implies action. I want all of my classmates to know that if you ever need help or you want to have a good time, come to me. Need help moving? Need someone to watch your kids? Just want to have dinner? We usually eat around 6:30. Don’t be a stranger, and let me know what I can do.