So Kiss Me And Smile For Me

Tell me that you’ll wait for me. Hold me close and never let me go.

Today marks the end of a long long road. Or is it the beginning? Maybe both. In 12 hours, I’ll be standing in line to board my flight back to Michigan. A flight back to where I really began, 24 years ago, when I began high school. My first time home in over a year and a half.

I’ve been trying to remember my first day of high school but I simply don’t. Just some random images flashing through my brain. Excitement mostly - I always loved the first day of school. New clothes, new Trapper Keepers, folding covers over textbooks, new faces, new classes. I remember my homeroom and getting the padlock for my locker. This was the first time I ever had a locker and I felt so…grown up. I decorated it with all the dorkish pictures I could find from Teen Beat.

Walking to the bus stop each day and chatting with the two boys who were there - one of whom killed himself a decade ago.

Getting up much earlier in the morning and now being able to start each morning with my Dad. Memories of onion bagels and his the smells of coffee are overcoming me right now.

In later years, trying desperately to find any sort of trendy article of clothing that would fit my body. The brown leather bomber jacket, size XL, that my parents gave me junior year in high school that never closed across my belly so I would just leave it open (a jacket I still wear to this day but now can almost wrap around myself twice). The marble knit sweaters and ankle length skirt sets from Express or The Limited that had a elastic waist and was stretchy enough that with work I could almost make fit because I’d pull the skirt up under my belly and let my stomach hang over it, covered by an expertly-stretched out sweater top.

That terrible horrible experiment with Sun-In and a hair dryer sophomore year.

Stealing detention slips that had been filed out of the office where I worked during study hall to try to win some favor with the popular people. Filling out and filing some extra ones for the people who were so damn mean to me.

Wanting so badly to fit in but not having enough sense of self to figure out how to do just that.

And now, 24 years after the first time I set foot in that school, I’m going back to it. Willingly. In fact, I’m breaking the bank to do it. Still wanting so badly to fit in. Do I have enough sense of self this time around to do just that?

Oh hell no.

At the same time, I have enough sense of myself now not only to accept that, but "fitting in" with these people doesn’t hold the same importance to me. I’m more interested in being there exactly as I am now, for all of my strange quirks, floppy arms, humor, and enthusiasm. I’m not as afraid to be an individual - a strange feeling for me because I’ve never been comfortable in my own skin.

Maybe I have a stronger sense of myself than I realize.

When discussing my reunion, so many people have made statements to the effect of, "I didn’t like them then, why would I go back now? I don’t care what they are doing and I don’t care what they think of my life." How many times I’ve said the same thing. Almost as many times as I held the fantasy of going back thin and rich and beautiful with my token millionaire heir boy toy on my arm, there for the sole purposes of showing what a great ass he has and holding my chinchilla coat for me.

Well, neither are applicable to me. I did like them back then, at least some of them. While I don’t necessarily care what they may think of the rest of my life, it’s nice to touch base with this group of people with whom I spent the better part of four years.

And yes, to live out at least a small part of that fantasy. I’m not beautiful or rich. No boy toy. No chinchilla. But I conquered two of the demons that kept me from living a more socially norm high school existence: I’ve lost the weight and I no longer feel the need to hide my true self away. I may not know my entire self as well as some, but you know what? That’s OK because whoever she is, I’m no longer afraid of her. I’ve grown up a lot in the last 20 years and in some ways, I’ve grown up all over again in the last 4. And all over yet again in the last 6 weeks.

So part of this fantasy has become a reality. I do get to return and put all of those sad memories to bed once and for all. And replace them with good memories. And well, yeah, I’m hoping to use the line on some guy who was unkind to me, "You used to have such a great head of hair, now it’s almost as thin as I am". OK, no I won’t be that nasty to anybody but it sounds really good doesn’t it?

I’m not packed. My apartment is a mess from hell. I’m late for work already. My cable keeps shorting out so I can’t see the traffic report. I broke 3 or 4 nails last night. I feel terribly guilty because I didn’t plan for a second backup attention-giver for the Blue Bomber and now one of them fell through which means he’s going to have to go for 2 very long and lonely days with nothing but Animal Planet to keep him company. I’m flat broke and actually have to take the bus to the airport because my ride fell through and I don’t have the extra $60 to spend on airport parking. My entire neck and chin line has broken out, a result of the laser facial treatment from last weekend that was supposed to have healed by now.

Ask me if I care. I don’t. It will all get resolved in time.

Today is my father’s birthday. I’ll be a day late but I am looking forward to facing that as well. Tomorrow for the first time since I watched him lowered into the ground so many years ago, I will be paying him a visit at the cemetery. I may even sing Happy Birthday to his gravestone.

I’m going to indulge in the best coney dog in America. Twice. I don’t care if my DS revolts and exacts revenge upon me for it. The last time I was home, I didn’t get to go and I’m missing it. I’m going to go to dinner with my mother at one of my favorite restaurants (where my rehearsal dinner was held) and have their unbelievably delicious Swiss Onion Soup.

I’ll see my brother and his demon spawn.

And it’s all going to be great. And if it isn’t? Well, that’s what the Valium is for.

Away I go. Thank you to all of you who have supported me in this decision to revisit, for living this little dream out with me, and especially my thanks to those (still unknown…damn typepad) people who have donated to the Reunion Fund. You will be gratefully appreciated tomorrow when I’m scrambling around Sephora looking for some sort of thick makeup base to hide these horrible ickies on my chin and neck.

Oh God, I’m so nervous I’m gonna puke.

I’m leavin on a jet plane….don’t know when I’ll be back again…