Finding Acceptance

I only went to my 40th high school reunion because I didn't want to waste $40. 

It's not that I didn't enjoy myself at my all girls Catholic high school on the south side of Chicago.  I loved every minute of it.  I should, considering how hard I had to fight to go there.  Not because I couldn't cut it academically, but because I lived in a racially mixed neighborhood.  At least that's what the nuns told my mother.  Even though I easily passed the entrance exam, they warned her I might be excluded because of my address. 

Borrowing an address from a friend of hers, I went to the school of my dreams.  For the first year I had to lie about where I lived so I had no social life.  By my sophomore year, we moved to a more acceptable address so I could join extracurricular activities like Chorus and the school newspaper.  I even made a few friends.  By my junior year, I was inducted into the National Honor Society and was planning for college.  My senior year was all about rebellion and my first boyfriend, who wasn't the kind you take to the prom.  Then it was time for my fairy tale graduation ceremony, with 500 girls wearing white gowns and gloves, each carrying a single red rose.

I soon lost touch with my few friends from high school, so I was worried I wouldn't know anyone at the reunion.  And I didn't.  We all looked so different from the youthful pictures on our name badges.  So I hung around the makeshift bar, striking up conversations with anyone who looked friendly. People seemed to recognize my name, although maybe they were just being polite.

Sitting all alone at a table next to the veggie tray, I wondered how long I was obliged to stay in order to justify my investment.  None of my old friends were there.  Then someone sat down next to me who I recognized as one of the top students in our class. We talked about our lives since we left high school.  Another woman sat down and we had a deep existential conversation about the purpose of our lives and the detours we've taken to get here.  As I left, I realized I had finally found the acceptance and sense of connection I had longed for so long ago in high school.  It was not about the girls we were, but the amazing women we had become.