Could she be old enough for 45th class reunion? Yes, and it came with sweet moments

I’m old. I’ve tried to tell myself I’m not that old but I was finally forced to face the harsh, unrelenting truth when I received an invitation to my sorority’s 45th pledge class reunion.

My first reaction was confusion. A “wait a minute” combined with a “WTH?” As in, how has it been 45 years? But then I did the math and had to reluctantly concede that yeah, it’s been four-plus decades since I was a freshman in college.

It was a wow moment for me because it felt like at best it’s been 20 years. But since I didn’t graduate from college in my 40s, that whole 20-year thing would be impossible.

Once I admitted to myself that the science of math never lies — nor does it bend to the fanciful whims and conceit of a woman telling herself she’s “not that old” — I allowed myself to have another reaction. It was an enthusiastic, “Oh heck yes, I’m going.” An event of this magnitude can’t be missed.

I then embarked on a grooming campaign, because one doesn’t go to a sorority reunion in Dallas without getting gussied up. This involved getting my hair highlighted, also known as #hidethegrays. My nails were done for the first time since last summer, and of, course, a new outfit was needed.

The only apprehension I had about attending the reunion was the fact that I hadn’t been back to Texas since my dad died. I left the state raw with grief and that was almost 10 years ago. I was a little fearful about what returning home would feel like.

I shouldn’t have worried. Once I exited the airport and was slapped upside the head with the signature Texas humidity and heat, it felt like I was getting a vigorous welcome back hug. The reunion felt exactly the same way.

This surprised me a little bit. The last reunion of any kind I attended was my 10-year high school reunion. Once the organizers called six guys up to the stage and roasted them about going bald, I became solidly anti these kinds of get-togethers.

But this reunion experience was sublime. I left with a profound feeling of gratitude for knowing all these women. This emboldened me to go to what my mother and I called “our happy place — NorthPark Center — somewhere I hadn’t been since she passed.

NorthPark is an amazing mall that holds a lot of memories of shopping with my mom. It was there we found my prom dress — and my wedding gown. My favorite memory is when I called my mom from a school pay phone (because it was the 1970s) and told her, while crying, that I had been kicked out of the choir for being allegedly “tone deaf.”

Her immediate reaction was to tell me that she was coming to get me and we were driving to Dallas, 100 miles miles away from my hometown in Waco, and going to NorthPark for some “healing.”

There were a lot of healing moments at that mall. I even went into what was our favorite dressing room at Neiman’s and actually cried. I then told myself that my mom would be telling me to dry my eyes and treat myself to something a little special from the clearance rack (her favorite). So I did just that because I wouldn’t want to disrespect my mother.

The whole experience proved to me that you can go home again because time has the power to dull grief and highlight memories. And some friendships exist in a space-time continuum where as soon as you see each you can almost magically pick up where you left off all those years ago.

Reach Sherry Kuehl at snarkyinthesuburbs@gmail.com, on Facebook at Snarky in the Suburbs, on Twitter at @snarkynsuburbs on Instagram @snarky.in.the.suburbs, and snarkyinthesuburbs.com.