Reunion Night
I begin the drive, one that should be familiar to me, though I haven’t done it since the mid-80s. The setting sun warms my face. Nerves, butterflies, and trepidation fill my mind, though I’m not quite sure why.
40 years later, and the faces have changed, but the laughter hasn’t. The Class of ’85 came together again — older, maybe a little grayer, but for one night we were 18 all over again.
I’m headed to what will be my 40th high school reunion. I haven’t seen these guys since we were 18-year-old boys; now we are weathered 58-year-old men. I personally haven’t stepped on campus since I left in 1985. This visit will definitely be overwhelming.
Pulling into the Christian Brothers High School parking lot, I felt a mix of excitement and that familiar doubt, as if I would have to perform. The school has grown. It looks the same, and yet it doesn’t. I expected it to look worn, like me, or like the faces from the past who had come to visit.
Old friends, familiar laughs. Some conversations don’t need decades to warm up — they pick up right where they left off.
Walking toward our spot on campus, the nerves were still there. But the first handshake turned into hugs, and suddenly we were 18 again. The 40 years didn’t matter. We shared old stories as if they had happened only yesterday.
“What are you doing now? How many kids do you have?” Those were the questions we asked as the 40-year gap disappeared. We all picked up again. We spent the night laughing, reminiscing, and having a good time. We also remembered those who couldn’t be with us, especially the classmates we had lost.
The night wore on, and it was time to say our goodbyes. We promised to keep in touch better, even the casual joke that next time we did a reunion, it would be on my island home, which was just fine by me.
Walking to my car, I glanced around. Living my 18-year-old self tonight was an excellent way to refresh myself. Driving away, I looked up to see the lights of the school and the motto, “Enter to Learn. Leave to Serve.” That motto didn’t exist when I was 18, but at 58, I understand it. I hope in some small way, I’ve lived it.
