I know I’ve mentioned before that I keep in contact with many of my high school friends. We only had twenty-five girls in my graduating class, so it wasn’t that hard. One of the girls tracked down most of the class several years ago, and with the advent of social media, many of us keep lines of communication open. Once a year, in March, there’s a whole-school luncheon, and I attended it regularly. I’d try to get as many people as possible to join us, and our table soon grew. Unfortunately, I reached the limit of my energy, and I stopped attending. I was too needy, and I didn’t want to always ask for help. My daughter loved going with me, but then the little ones arrived, and her time for such activities became limited.
Many of the “girls” who couldn’t attend the luncheon initiated other get-togethers, and soon we were meeting for lunch in the summer. Since they knew my limitations, they would ask me to choose a place, and they’d drive over the bridge to attend. Last year, we met in mid-July and thirteen of us attended. Two of our classmates have died – one had a congenital heart problem and died when she was quite young; the other had breast cancer, and she passed away a year and a half ago. We were never able to contact one of the girls. I knew she had attended college, and then entered the Peace Corps, but after that, I lost touch. Someone heard she lived in Canada, but we kept hitting dead ends. Three years ago, a girl from another class told us that her mother knew where we could find the missing member. Everything was rolling along, but then we hit another wall. We’ve tried to Google her name, but we’re unsure if she married and assumed her husband’s name. We just don’t seem to be able to find her.
Another girl contacted us about ten years ago, but we were never able to follow up on her whereabouts. She was such an integral part of our class, and at one point, my life. Then she seemed to vanish. Every time our classmates meet, her name comes up, and someone always has a story to tell. I have so many memories of our times together, and I always have an anecdote about her. Remember the time M climbed out the window to get on the roof? Remember how she used to complain about her legs, saying they were matronly? Remember the parties she had? I still remember the time she stayed over at my house and wanted to make a birthday cake for another classmate. My parents were going out, but they trusted me to make good judgments. (Boy, were they wrong!) M dropped a whole egg in the cake batter and then tried to pulverize it by putting the mixer on high speed. What a mess. Then, she decided we’d just say that the crunchiness was from nuts. Finally, she made colored frosting to which she kept adding different food dyes. It became khaki colored. My parents walked into this mess, and my dad said she was a ‘dingbat!’ I have so many other memories of her, but I thought she was gone for good.
Then I got a text from another friend last night, telling me she found M on FB under an obscure name. We looked through the photos and decided it was definitely the long-lost M. I’ve sent her a friend request, and now I’ll wait to see if I get a response. It would be so much fun to talk to her again, but I’ll bide my time. Isn’t it strange how life goes? You just never know what will happen.