On Saturday I went to T's parents' house to see baby T, who is as cute as ever despite taking on a somewhat deflated appearance in the last five weeks. For a baby who still weighs less than I did at birth, he's a strong one. I quite magnanimously handed him over to my friend the Lawyer when she arrived with Dancing Friend, but not before vowing to get across the bay to see him again soon.
Colorado friend's open house brought back memories of impromptu summer pool parties and her mother's fresh baked bread. I got a bit nervous about my dress being over the top, but Colorado Friend's husband assured me that he was planning to wear a suit and insisted I not opt for something less formal.
At the reunion itself, it took two vodka sodas (and much prodding from friends) for me to take off my coat, but I felt confident in my attire once I finally did. We all caught up, chatted with the acquaintances we'd known, and generally fell back into each other's company comfortably. Looking around, it was easy to remember how much I loved these people, how much I still do. At one point I dissolved into weeping, stomach cramping laughter with the woman (the Harvest Party Hostess) who was my closest friend from first grade through college. You would have had to be there to get what was so funny, and by there, I mean the last 23 years of my life.
My friend the Real Estate Magnate hosted the after party. I greeted Colorado Friend, her husband, the harvest party hostess, and her boyfriend in the library and made my way slowly to the stairs that led to the finished basement. Flooding had caused the Real Estate Magnate's parents to have most of the furniture removed, but our wall was still there. All the way down the stairs above the wainscoting were names and mottos and quotes and responses drawn in colored Sharpies.
"Monkey hate swim"
"Harvard '02"
"RHS Soccer"
"Abandon all hope ye who enter here"
I traced the letters of my name with a finger, thinking about how much, and yet how little, had changed in a decade. I don't remember the night we made that wall (at the urging of the Real Estate Magnate's parents), but I remember all of the moments it references. I remember the treacherous back stairs out of that basement, where important conversations and multiple injuries happened. I remember learning to play Craps. I remember a very inebriated friend jumping in after the confederate flag he insisted was in the pool, screaming "those bastards lost the war" as he leapt. I remember staying up past 4 am eating Hot Tamales and staring at a blue TV screen. I remembered holiday dinners in the large formal dining room where the girls cooked and the boys cleaned up. I remember all of us crashing in the family room after senior prom.
Taking the stairs two at a time, I returned to the present where Real Estate Magnate and my neighbor were opening a bottle of '69 French something or other. It hadn't turned to vinegar yet, but it wasn't good either. A kid the year below us offered me a job in the local law firm he was joining (it didn't seem to matter that I haven't been to or expressed interest in law school) and my friend Ttam Taf poked and punched at me playfully like a 12-year-old with a crush. A female friend was reassured to find that I wasn't eager to have children either.
The clock moved past 4, but I stayed and talked until someone thought it was a good idea to shotgun beers. Convinced that we'd all completely regressed, I opted out of the contest and headed home. After all, I knew we'd be back, same place, same time, in another ten years.
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