It was his class reunion, not mine, but since I went to the same school and was just a year behind, so many of the people are familiar and I always enjoy their reunions. (My class ceased having them.) Of course, making the trip for the reunion means touring old stomping grounds as well.
On Mondays, I share from my Gratitude Journal.
Today, #1349. NOSTALGIA TRIPS
A chance to visit old stomping grounds,
the house where I grew up,
the street where I played kickball,
the backyard in which I cartwheeled summers away,
the sidewalks that led me to elementary school,
the neighborhood whose houses
I still call by the names of the families who resided in each one
around the time of the first moonwalk,
when the draft took boys –
some my brothers’ friends –
while I refined my baton-twirling technique
and made ice cream cones at Dairy Queen,
my first real job.