Home Base

I'm back from a ridiculously wonderful, way too brief trip back to my alma mater's reunions weekend. Every year, the day after I get back is one steeped in bittersweet melancholy: I am hung over on several levels, most of them emotional.

This was my 15th reunion year for my illustrious class, so although Husband and I attend reunions every year, this one was all about US and full of our friends, our classmates, our music, our memories. It was almost like having another wedding, with every face we have loved our that loved us in the virtual room at the same time.

While I cherished every second, I can't help but feel brokenhearted that it will take another five years to get everyone in the same space again. I am wondering if I can somehow pull off an initiative to get my entire class to agree to return every year instead of waiting until 2016. Unlikely, I know, but I am not one to shy away from a challenge. I'll work on that... tomorrow.

For me, going back to this place, to these people, is like tagging home base. I have been so many places since my four years on that campus and I have met so many people, but that is the place I loved, the place I grew up, and those are the people I loved and grew up alongside. Going back reminds me of who I was before all this and who I still am beneath it all. It is so, so valuable to me. It brings me both an aching longing (oh, the choices I would make differently!), an overwhelming sense of gratitude (how lucky I am to have this, and to have had it), and a full-to-the-brim kind of happiness.

There are funny observations, especially as we age -- the once-hotties who are now bald, or a little pudgy, or much more willing to stoop to talk to the likes of me and the former playas who now carry pacifiers in one hand and push a stroller in the other. Parenting small children outside, in heat, during a several-hour parade turns out to be a remarkably universal equalizer. No one looks suave and accomplished while surviving such a challenge, be he or she a hedge fund manager or CEO or regular stay at home parent. The older we get, the more we have in common, it seems, along with our common histories.

One big revelation this weekend was that part of my need to go back to my reunion every year is to see my guy friends. In college, I had many, many guy friends. In my career, I had many, many guy friends -- probably sometimes more than I had girl friends. As a stay at home mother, I really do not get the chance to interact with men very often, and when I do, it's kind of inappropriate for me to grow close to them. So my remaining guy friends from college, and these few chances to see them, have become incredibly important to me. Maybe that is why I enjoy Facebook so much -- and yes, I received tons of remarks about my Facebook activity this past weekend -- there, I am still allowed to talk to men! I felt so much more in balance this weekend, so much more able to engage both sides of my social personality. I love women and I cherish and adore my female friendships, but it was so nice to get to hang with my homeboys too.

I miss it all already. I am already upset about the people I missed or didn't talk to enough. I am dreading the long, hot summer ahead. I want nothing more than to scoop up my kids and go back now, reveling in the old sidewalks and the ice cream shops and the surreal green grass. I wish I could spend every day tagging home base.

Until we meet again, my friends, take care. I need you.