SOMP...

This past weekend, at the behest of my parents I road-tripped into the wilds of semi-rural Virgina (with Damien) to join my parents and several of their friends at their annual Fall reunion. (The event attended was the SOMP Fall Golf Classic in which my father disappointingly took second place.) As a child these reunions used to always be boring or awkward for me and my siblings as we were forced to take a back seat to our parent's past lives. What I failed to realize, was the significance in between the in-jokes and the teasing and the warm smiles. The significance is that the shared history between my father and the other men in the group extends throughout the entirety of their lives. They were all born within the same week in March, in the same town, 52 years ago. Their history extends back to painting old lady Chapman's garage with stolen paint, playing stick ball in the alleyways, graduation, marriages, children, deaths of parents and marriages of their children. Most of the women in this group are from the same town or like my mother moved their during high school. After these weekends my parents always seem so much happier. I think it is because they get to touch base with people who really know who they are, who know where they have come from and where they are going.

This year was somewhat bittersweet for me. It brought into sharp relief the people who have come and gone in my life. I suppose this isn't the time or place to muse over blame or wonder what could have been or what memories could have been made but I ruminate over these things too much, I think. In some cases the break up of the friendship was probably for the best, but there are others I don't think I'll ever have a clear view on. Example:

There was a girl I went to elementary school with. We were in the same Girl Scout troop we were close through high school (despite a few events in her life that at the time I wasn't really prepared to deal with let alone offer her solace) We learned how to dance together. We were on the rowing team together. We leave in different directions for collage and communication between us was sparse but when back home we spent a lot of time together. Over time we gradually drifted apart. Communication became more sparse. I went home for the fourth of July weekend; coming out of a nasty cycle of self loathing brought on by a recent break up and I ran into her. She bounds up to me, I just wanted to leave. I was miserable and it had nothing to do with her. I read in her livejournal the following week her accounts of the fourth of July and all about her encounter with me, her "friend," the "bitch." I think I left a comment. I don't remember what it said, but I am sure I didn't apologize for acting coldly. I do know I am too proud when confronted to do that. I was hoping for an apology from her but one never came and again, my pride seems to be standing in my way. I've seen her a few times since then and it has always been awkward. I choose to ignore every thing about the situation, probably not the most mature move, but I also don't know what to say. The unresolved nature of the whole ordeal is what upsets me the most, though I do miss her friendship. It was also painfully clear that we approached life in drastically different ways and our lack of communications since high school make painfully apparent that we aren't that close anymore. Was it for the best, was it not? Who knows?

I do know that the people I have in my life are wonderful dear people whom I cherish and I can only hope that in 30 years we're all sitting around sharing and creating joy together. I hate feeling so far removed from them in DC and I miss each of them more and more daily...