The Youngest Old-people
At first I laughed at the thought of a reunion with my old batch mates from grade school. To me it was nothing more than words that would never materialize. I had no fond memories of grade school, nor did I care to re-live it through a reunion. All I remembered from the years 1988 to 1994 were people sticking gum on my hair, taking my snacks and bigger kids bullying me every chance they got. Why on earth would I want to revisit those days?
I saw old batch mates and read posts online about the first ever meeting. I politely said "yes" to those who invited me but I never really intended to attend. Yet on the day itself of our first ever meeting, I found myself bewildered by the urge to attend. I guess as a man of 28, I grew up blocking all these thoughts that I couldn't feel the pain from my days in grade school anymore. I smiled at the general idea simply for its comedic simile - A bunch of people of whom I know from my childhood years were gathering for a meeting at a place called "The Tree House". "Hmmm, A meeting at the tree house" I thought to myself. Solely focused on that sentence, it just doesn't sound too frightening anymore. For the first time, I found no reason to back-away. No triggers of memories long locked-up. No apprehensions of what might happen (or happen again).
Attending was the best decision I ever made. Our second meeting became a Christmas Party (when I jokingly said it during the meeting I didn't think anyone would agree). A fun and very heart warming tribute to the children we were between 88 & 94. Though the games have changed. The conversation topics raised to "PG" and "R" ratings. The faces weathered by years of maturity yet as elegant as fine wine. The old hierarchy of who's who long faded and blown away like dust. I did not see any bullies. I did not fear any approach. I felt no phantom bubblegum in my hair. All was well... All IS well. The fond memories I thought I never had from grade school came crashing down in a cascade of shared experiences, bridged by morsels of memories from those around me. Painted and completed upon a canvas 15-years in the making. As I browse through the photos I took, I noticed halfway that I was unconsciously humming the old school hymn. I felt so serene recounting memories of last night.
The reality of grade school life was no longer heavy. In truth there really were no bullies, no hierarchy and no fear. Just children. Kids being kids. A melting pot of various backgrounds and upbringings. Just as we all were back then, we are still children. At least in it's very essence. The youngest old-people, out for some fun. Finding a connection to the past "us" that led to who we are now; From boys and girls to men and women. From fun-loving kids to fun-cherishing adults. From old batch mates to older friends.
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