Last night I went to my twenty year primary school reunion.
Safe to say I’m suffering a little today!
Even though there were only a handful of us, it was amazing to see everybody. I could see that most of us had barely changed twenty years on! Walking into the pub, I was excited. I assumed there’d be nerves but I was wrong. I really wanted to see these people and I have done for years.
I was only at the school for two years having previously been at the school my mother taught at. Once there, I slotted in easily. My class were a warm and friendly bunch and bullying was practically unheard of. I made friends quickly, building close alliances and bonds. The boys were just as easy to get on with than the girls. I loved it there and always wished I had shared more memories with them.
It was strange last night, how I could barely remember anything. As they talked about our old teachers, I racked my brains only to find nothing. I could only remember a couple of them. People that were an important part of my life had disappeared into a void and nothing was bringing them back. Perhaps photographs would ignite my memory more – I’m better with faces.
I honestly cannot remember much from those two years and I know it was a long time ago but I am only thirty one. Surely my memory must be fresher than this? However, it’s the same with most of my childhood. Happy memories have been replaced by frightening ones, hurtful and dangerous ones.
Perhaps life would have been easier, bearable even, if I’d pursued and kept my friendships with these classmates. They still appear to be as genuine and lovely as they were when they were ten years old.
I look forward to seeing them all again and sharing a future where we remain in each other’s lives.