It's OK to Recycle Your Teenage Years

I was a recycled teen this weekend.

A group of friends gathered to remember the good ol’ days when life was simple and carefree. Do you remember those days?

It was called high school.

No, it wasn’t the officially sanctioned reunion, that’s being planned for next year.

This spur of the moment gathering was organized so we could share some history. No faux pas about not recognizing someone. I peaked at the RSVP list. Just an intimate gathering of high school pals.

"Wow, it’s been twenty years!"

"Great to see you! What’s new?"

Wait, I already have some of the answers.  

Thanks to Facebook, I've seen recent photos and read daily updates on all their big milestones.

I know who's married, who's divorced, where they vacationed and what team their kid just made. Every day I attend a virtual reunion and I never have to leave my family room.   

Time for me to leave the pretend world for a dose of reality. Dab on the lipstick, pluck a gray hair, and I'm out the door traveling back in time.

So to speak.

We hugged, we laughed and we talked. Three hours of chatting about who we are, what we think and where we've been.

Close your eyes and I bet you can see the peanuts on the floor at the Ground Round. Remember tossing coins into the tabletop jukebox in the diner with the best Peach Melba?

Who was the teacher with the bright pink lipstick that matched her outfits?

You went with who to the prom?

It was like playing a custom edition of Trivial Pursuit. I was collecting pie with every recollection.

But just like Cinderella, the clock magically chimed and I was returned to the present.

Mirror, mirror on the wall, I am a teenager no more.    

This mom of four turned and saw her prince and carriage waiting to take her back to laundry, cooking and carpool.  Back to being a grown-up.

It was fun taking off my reading glasses and seeing the past more clearly. Maybe it wasn’t always the time of our lives, but time does seem to heal the wounds of high school.  

Some memories have faded into the past, but I am glad these adolescent friendships want to remain in the present. 

Once upon a time we were teenagers; aren’t we glad history can repeat?

Even if only lasts for a few magical hours.