It has been an interesting week.
I've been quiet. Well, in some respects. I've noticed that I avoid writing when I am in the throes of deep thought. I suppose because I am trying to sort the thoughts & make some sense of them in the first place.
And because, sometimes, facing those thoughts makes me cry.
The new year, in just its first blush of promise, already holds a number of reunions. Oddly enough, one of my "goals". To reach out & reconnect with "old" friends is so easy now, my aim was to make use of technology & get back up to speed with those that I hold dear.
In a strange juxtaposition, two different "me's" are colliding. The "grade school/high school" me & the "bar band scene/college" me.
Three me's, to be accurate. The current "me" as well gets thrown in the mix.
I have been in touch with some wonderful friends not only from High School, but dating back to at least 3rd grade. I'll tell you about the Pink Panthers some time. Some point when I have LOTS of time!
And for a while now, I have been in contact with friends from my college/bar band years.
And what I love is that the friends I had are still friends. Even though we have gone different routes, started families, lost each other along the way, grown up & apart...we are still friends.
We can commiserate about the wrinkles & occasional aches. We can share the grief of losing a parent. We can laugh about the exploits of the kids & remodelling. We can share our joys, our triumphs, our failures.
You forget that...as you are busy with your life, & growing apart from your friends...it is your shared experiences that bound you tightly together in the first place. It just takes a photo, a song, an inside joke, to spark a memory & bring it all back.
This weekend is going to be tough for me.
I send the abandoned son back to the desert. And on the same day, I have a reunion. A 25+ year reunion. Not in a High School gym, but in the rock bar that I spent so many hours in. The name has changed, but I'm pretty sure the carpet hasn't. There is a reunion/CD release party for a band that I used to hang with during the college years. (I prefer the term "band buddy" to everyone out there thinking "groupie". Thank you very much!) The same band that played my Senior Halloween dance. You know, the one where we were so busy flirting with the guys we didn't even know there was music! (C'mon, I went to a Catholic all girls school...what do you expect!)
Names are popping in my head that I haven't thought of in all these years. Faces. Songs. "Oh my god" moments.
But over this all hangs a cloud.
My best friend from High School, my best friend from those band years, my maid of honor, will not be there. Maureen died when we were 29. Cervical cancer. Caused by the HPV virus.
And as I thought of everyone I was going to see, a few names popped in my head. God, do they know? How many times will I need to answer the question, "Where is Mo?" We were joined at the hip. Hoolie & Moron. The "Little Miss Twisters". The top two names on the guest list. Well, unless we needed to get bumped for the music store owner.
And a little piece of me does not feel like dancing. It won't be the same. And it's not because of a wrinkle, or a stiff knee, or a picture of two kids in the wallet.
It's because a part of me won't be there.
That whole, "She'll be there in spirit" line applies, yes. And in some respects, I know Maureen will be there. In a swirl of smoke in the Leeko, in the last chord of a song...
But to not see her smile, or to share the "secret" hand dance...well, it's gonna be hard.
In a bittersweet way.
I wouldn't miss this weekend for the world.
Link on over to The Inspired Room for more inspiration.
Oaxacan Black Mole - 8oz dried pasilla chiles hot water Spice blend: 1-2 TBS seeds from the softened pasillas 1 tsp ground coriander 1/2 tsp three peppercorn blend 1/2 tsp anise...