The Nothingburgerness of Previously Drawn Lines

We have more wrinkles now. Some of our own kids have even joined the marching band. Some of us have moved away, while others have lived here the whole time. As the decades moved on, some of us have started businesses. Some of us joyfully came out of the closet. Some of us are caring for parents. Some of us are teaching. Lots of us can talk about physical changes, and lots of us can talk about the ubiquity of Teams Meetings.

Over the weekend, I went to my High School Reunion, and it was a great time. We set up space in a pool bar, while talking, laughing and yes, occasionally, watching our own senior yearbook photos scroll across a screen.

I admit that I don’t know exactly where all the fault lines used to lie — that is, who could hang out with whom, and who could easily gossip about whom — but undoubtedly, those used to be there, and now, they are totally gone. None of my closest friends from that time in my life came to this particular reunion. But if we recognized someone, the primary response wasn’t hesitation or distance, but an easy, ‘Hey! How are you doing?’—as if time had folded in on itself and we’d been old pals all along. I had engaging conversation all night long.

Sometimes, time itself erodes those lines. They’re just gone. No cliques. Friends who can start as friends again, at least for this night and maybe longer, too. We are certainly people who take an interest in wanting each other to be well and do well.

No doubt, there are bigger, more significant conflicts in this country and in our personal lives than the divisions of our high school days. But if time itself can erase those, what might be possible with real intentions to do the work in good faith — healing what can be healed?

—Renee Roederer