Within  a week or two I’ll be going to my 45th high school reunion.

I’m told I don’t have the right attitude about  my high school memories. I’m sure there are people for whom high school was a happy magical place of growth and possibilities. I don’t know any of them, but I think I know people who would say that anyway. I often wonder what they do remember. And what they need to forget to make themselves whole.

Do they remember the day someone threw me into the bleachers during a dance class? Or the day I was beaten with books by 5 classmates in a hall room? Or the young Christian girl who observed that even people like me were of some value? Or being celebrated as the queen of Saturnalia (fools) for a Latin club event? As you can imagine, I have some mixed feelings about the memories.

Bless us, I suppose there’s a part of that these people who probably define all this as high spirits and a lack of humor on my part.

Did I have friends? I did. They were dear and they were rare. I hope I recognize them.

I believe that what forms who we are most is the stories we tell about ourselves. We define ourselves as legends in our own minds. Perhaps that’s normal. Who else can best tell your story but you?

Had I been braver, tougher, tighter, smarter, and prettier, I might have had a different experience. There was a lord of the flies quality to high school that I’m still trying to get over. How did they define me?  Was I a victim? A snot assed scholar? A mental bully?  An antisocial art princess? A writer with several books under her belt? There’s  no going back, to change what was. I’m waiting for the stories to flip.

I’m waiting on my perception to change. Perhaps I can see how afraid they were they might have been lumped in with me as a person to focus on. Perhaps they were afraid all the time too. Perhaps I made them feel less able or valuable. Perhaps there’s a space where we can see each other differently. Perhaps the stories can flip.

So I am going hoping to see these folk in a different light. I’m hoping to see me in a different light. I’m hoping for our stories to flip.

I’ll be in a wheel chair for some of this. I’m not exactly crippled, but I don’t do distance standing and walking. Try not to add it to my story. It’s not how I define myself. It’s just the mileage.