Accidental Ambivalence

Five Years Later

This weekend, I went to my five-year high school reunion. There wasn't nearly enough alcohol to warrant any excellent stories, but I did have a few observations.

First, apparently five years does change some people. I admit, the nasty, schadenfreude-seeking part of me was thrilled to see that several people have visibly gained weight, particularly the my image obsessed, pseudo-vegetarian ("I don't eat pepperoni, just chicken.") once-upon-a-time Meals on Wheels partner. I've seen a lot of my former classmates in the last few years - I spent my first three years of college going home every few weekends to work at my parents' restaurant - but others I probably haven't seen since the night we graduated. The first thing I heard when I walked through the door was, "Wow, I barely recognized you," from a guy I've known since...well, probably forever. I found this strange. While I'm aware that we rarely notice changes in ourselves because they are gradual and we look in the mirror every day, I feel like most of the changes in me are superficial. I've lost braces and gained bangs. I am three pounds heavier at this moment than I was when I started college. Whatever, I was also complimented, so if there are changes, at least they're for the better.

Seeing my classmates run around with their significant others was strange. Living in a small town always feels a bit incestuous, and the rules about never dating your best friend's ex tend to count for a lot less; it was bizarre to walk into a room where a third of the people, who I didn't know at all, were dating people that I've known for as long as I can remember.

Stranger than husbands and girlfriends and bed buddies were the children. A few babies, several toddlers, and a handful of four- and five-year-olds. Some of the most selfish girls I've ever known are now responsible for raising small people, and that's terrifying. And I realized, watching a bunch of little kids whose parents I've seen in seven different states of disarray running around, just how happy I am that I'm not there.

I always knew that college was next. I always knew that I was destined to do more than stay in Small Town my whole life; I needed to get out and learn more and see...something. Of course, when I graduated, I was completely infatuated with Iris and hated the idea of leaving him. I had it in my head that after four years, everything would work itself out. He and I would finally move beyond our chronic bad timing and get together. I was going to get my teaching certificate, move back home to be with Iris, and be known for my triumphant return. We would get married and have adorable little kids, hopefully with his eyes. I would teach at the same high school that I attended, coach cheerleading, and be the reincarnation of the excellent English teacher that I was blessed with. Between my tiny family and his huge one, we would have an amazing support system and I would never feel like I was missing anything.

But when Iris died, my future became extremely foggy. I suddenly knew that going back to Small Town wasn't what I wanted, not just because he wasn't there, but because his memory was. Now, it feels much too small for both of us. I'm so incredibly glad that, at twenty-three, I'm single and free to do whatever I please, however selfish it may be. I'm not ready for the compromises that come with marriage or the sacrifices that come with having children. I'm absolutely content to worry about myself and my cats and know that whatever I decide to do will be perfect.

Labels: personal growth, Small Town, updates

posted by nicalyse @ 9:57 PM