Well, that's depressing!

I enjoy my trek to my mailbox every day, I don't care what the weather is, I simply look forward to whatever surprise lies within...usually.  I like glossy catalogs, local mailers with coupons and yes, I confess even bills (most of the time).  Zorro enjoys the jaunt out to the mailbox as well and bounds up and down the front yard next to the curb. 

I frequently put the mail on the front stoop and spend a little time pulling weeds or perhaps trimming a shrub or two.  It's the kind of exercise that's good for my soul.

Yesterday the trip was not as delightful as usual.  There was one piece of mail and before I pulled it from the dark interior of the box I could tell it was not a catalog, local mailer or even a bill. This appeared to be (hold on to your boot straps) an actual letter, the envelope had actual handwriting on it.  Be still my heart.

I recognized the return name and address; it was of an old friend.  Uh-oh I think to myself, this can't be good news.  Heart pounding and breath quickening I hastily and messily ripped the envelope open.  I wish I hadn't bothered.  The letter started thusly.

"Dear Friends,

We graduated from high school 60 years ago!!!  Amazing!!"

(Gasp, cough, sputter, cough, choke, choke, gasp, sputter, sputter.)

"Our celebration will be on Saturday, September 12."

By now I had sunk, actually slunk into the corner of my sofa, rapped my arms around my legs and went into shock.  60 years!!!  60 years!!! How the hell did that happen???  NOOOOOOO!!!!!!  60 years is for old people.  I'm not old people!  Maybe my classmates are...but I'm NOT old people.

I was in a tizzy.  I could feel a panic attack coming.  I dial my sister...answer, please answer.

Ring.

Ring. (Please be there.)

Ring! (Heart beating faster.)

Ring!!! (AHHHHHH!  Pick up!  Pick up!)

She finally answered her phone.  Oh, I laid it on thick; I tried to get her to tell me this was some kind of horrid error.  Surely, goodness and mercy I could not be out of school for (gulp) 60 years.  Please, please tell me this is not true.
She could not.

Eventually I calmed down enough to become coherent and after we reminisced for a while I was able to accept the fact the years have flown by. But accepting the fact I've been a graduate for sixty years is pretty overwhelming.  I can't help thinking about the woman in the commercial saying she didn't need one of those emergency buttons and says "They're for old people."  Surely the same holds true for my class reunion in September.  It is definitely for "old people".

Am I going to attend?  No.  I've done all the traveling I have ever wanted to do in my lifetime.  Plus, it is simply no fun flying any more, just going through the airport is more trouble than the trip is worth.  I'll be there in spirit though, and will look forward to follow up letters regarding who did attend, what they are doing, and where they are now.  


After yesterday's shock imagine how I'm going to react five years from now when I get another letter telling me the 65th reunion is about to happen.  Oh, brother, maybe...if the Lord's willin' and the creek don't rise...and I'm still in my right mind...I might go, just to see who's out living me.