I am freaking out.
It snuck up on me, I swear. I knew it was coming; it shouldn’t be a surprise. I’ve had plenty of time to prepare, to wrap my mind around it, psych myself up for it.
So how the hell am I so unprepared?
My class reunion is less than two weeks away. My thirtieth class reunion. A reunion that was supposed to be really really special for me, because I was going to show up all slim and successful and in-your-face about how great my life is going. Instead, I’m fat, unemployed, newly divorced, and scrounging returnable pop bottles for the gas money to make it to Kalamazoo for the big event.
Some of you may be doing some quick math in your heads. Yes, I am 48 years old. I’ve been coy and evasive about my age up until now in my blog…
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