Never say I don't honor requests...

So a very lovely friend of mine emailed me and told me that she's tired of seeing Bourdain's puss on here when she visits, and could I please post something to push him further down on the page. Well, it was really about time, I s'pose, so here's a little something to shove him on down.

I went to a reunion yesterday. It has been 20 years since I graduated from high school. Twenty years. It's funny how those years seem like a lifetime, yet also like the blink of an eye. Some of my classmates are barely touched by those years, and others have been transfigured. Some things and people, though, haven't changed a bit.

One of my friends, perhaps the only one with whom I've tried to keep in contact, hasn't changed one iota. He's still the same quirky, funny, perceptive guy he always was. Possessed of a genuinely kind heart and married to a positively saintly woman, he let me tag along with him last night. See, my high school experience pretty much peaked in my freshman year. It was all downhill from there for me, with my senior year being, well, Hell with all its requisite emotional torment. I don't know how much he knows this, but he pretty much kept me afloat that year.

It was nice to see everyone again, and humbling to realize what a small life I've led in comparison to some. I've never lived outside the boundaries of my very small state. I've traveled fairly little in my 38 years. I got married extremely young, thereby de facto abdicating my independence and all the opportunities it could have brought. Don't get me wrong - I certainly could have done worse! But I had a wee bit of envy last night, chatting with my former classmates and catching up on what's they've been up to for the last two decades.

While I chatted, though, I realized something about that envy. It really was only a wee bit. Over the last year, I've grown into myself some. I'm comfortable, even happy at times, with who I am and what I've accomplished. And while I've led a fairly small life, it's been a rich and rewarding life. It's a life of relative contentment.

I got home really late, and found my household asleep. The WCM woke up a bit for me, snuggled me in tight to his nice solid warmth, and asked me if I'd had a good time. And you know what? It hit me then, that, yes, I had. I genuinely did have a good time. I might do it again, too, and not wait for another 20 years.