It has been three months since I had this desire to have a batch reunion for our high school class. As a response to my desire I immediately contacted people whom I know and I believe they can be of help for this pursuit.
This initiative freezed for some reasons. But lately, the campaign went on again and the network is becoming wider. I am happy to know that many are interested for a reunion and I came to realized that this event only needs one person to push through.
I am really getting excited as people sign up. So I started building the data base. One by one I entered the names of my batchmates. As I encode their names, suddenly some of them I recall by name, some I recall by their faces and the experiences I had with them. Since our school is so big and we have a big population, unfortunately, many I cannot remember. But I know during the reunion I will get to know them and so they are. My identity will be revealed.
As I go with the list, I went into a sudden but trembling experience. Let me give a short background. We have a class shirt, where our names were posted; it is located at the back of the shirt. Due to my excitement with the list, I started to write the name of my high school classmates. I am getting confused as I commence the process; I realize that I cannot remember all their names. So I went to my friendster account since I posted the picture of our class shirt where the names are written. To my amazement, even as I looked at the names, still I cannot recall some of my classmates; and to top it all, even my peers and friends I cannot remember.
Thinking through what had happened and why did it happened. I immediately attributed this to the seasonal short term memory loss that I am experiencing. But I really tried to think had, till I ended up admitting the sad truth.
I usually say that college life is the most beautiful experience I ever have. My friends will immediately contradict my statement for they believe that their high school life is the best. As I recall, I rarely share high school events that I had, yes I rarely do.
Honestly, I envy people who have established connections with their high school friends, because I don’t have. I never had. My life in our town is rather different. It is not the same as those of my high school “friends”. I never had time with them. I real fun time like the stories that I have encountered. I don’t have the luxury and liberty of time that they enjoyed.
During my teenage years, these include college days that I spend in our town (I studied away from home), while my batchmates are busy, having grand time with themselves I am at the market, selling, earning a living. While they are inside the malls during weekends, I am attending the house chores and my siblings’ needs. On summer breaks, while they are visiting each others houses, I am in my relatives’ place having vacation. So how can I know them? How will I establish friendship? I remember my friends used to adjust to my schedule by spending time with me in the market while I attend to my responsibility. I really admire those people who never cared about my status in life all they cared for is my value to them.
I never had time for outside friendships; I am busy working out family’s friendship. My priorities went out right. I am glad to still have friends outside the home despite the fact. Meeting my batchmates for a reunion will let me rekindle memories. At the same time, it will give me the chance to know them and establish friendship, which is now more meaningful because we are emotionally mature.
I am not bitter about all these. I never regret any of those. No, not at this point. Maybe I do when I still bear a child’s heart, when still I clamor for “freedom” when I fact I just envy them.
Fruit of my youthhood resulted to stronger ties with my siblings and family. I can never repay those times that I was with them. I treasure moments when I myself witness the sacrifices that each one gave to sustain the family materially. Friends come and go but the family remains. Did I lost my youthhood? Yes, maybe but not my family.
