(written back in September, but never published. Found languishing in the 'drafts' folder, waiting for me to come up with something positive to say about re-visiting the past.)
... came to mind when I started thinking about a class reunion. I will not confess the year of graduation. Though I will report there are people who graduated with me from Kindergarten who were also part of the group that wore gowns and square hats in a much larger size when we finished twelve more years of education. It would be interesting to know how many of those folks, the ones I knew when I was 17 and set out to make my way in the world, have spent the intervening years in that same place where we started from.
There were 100 people in my graduating class, unless a couple of them did not have the grades to be issued the costume we were required to wear. Some are now wearing wings and halos, some simply could not be found, some declined to attend. There was a pretty good crowd there, most were with spouses. Plus assorted singles who were unattached for
I left early, after speaking to the few people I have had contact with in the intervening years. I had to get up early to go to work the next day, so needed to get to bed, but began to get some really bad vibes. Like something really bad was going to happen. A sort of premonition of tragedy. A definite creepiness, the kind of thing that makes the hair stand up on the back of your neck for no apparent reason.
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