I attended my husband’s 30th medical school reunion this weekend in New Hampshire. It meant a visit to my old stomping grounds, fall foliage, and a few of Jonathan’s fellow classmates I was keen to see. Plus, I am blessed to have a spouse who likes me to tag along. I love weekending away with J. So even though it wasn’t my reunion, I went along.
Lots of nice people with vaguely familiar faces cast me helpless, do-I-know-you looks, scanning my nametag, spinning through the e-files in their brains. Face it. At this age, most grad school reunions are rife with vaguely familiar faces. Everyone looks kind of like they could be someone you knew a hundred years ago. Some brave alums even molded their faces triumphantly into expressions of recognition. Yes! I remember you…was it epidemiology? Parasitology with Dr. Pfeffercorn? No, sorry, you actually don’t know me. We’re good.
In fairness, they might have recognized me as someone’s pregnant wife from 32 years ago, but I didn’t feel like embarking on that trail.
The nice part about being in awkward social situations when you’re 59 is that you don’t mind wandering off to sit on a bench and grade papers on your computer. I suppose I could have tried to be more social, but then I would have missed the traveling reptile show, where a giant reticulated python slithered menacingly around a man’s neck. And what about the free gelato bar? If you keep an open mind, someone else’s reunion might be better than you think.
My 60th year in 60,000 words
Day 33: 257 words, TOTAL = 4957; 55,043 remaining
Robin Clifford Wood is a writer and writing teacher. She lives in central Maine with her husband and dogs, loves to be outdoors, and enjoys ever-expanding horizons through her grown children and their multi-species families.