I spent this weekend at my alma mater, for reunion weekend. Technically it wasn't a reunion year for me, but enough friends registered to go that it became a necessity to fly out. They make me whole again, with their clever, engaging conversations and endlessly amusing stories. We bask in the glow of our former home, benefiting from the restorative powers of Herrell's ice cream.
Alums from 1934 all the way to present walked together in the alumnae parade. We cheered the women who are nearly 100 for so long the college president had to stop speaking and wait. They kick ass, and I'm proud to come from the same place as them.
I had the kind of absurd and wonderful adventures that only my alma mater mixed with my group of friends can produce. I laughed until I hurt and I remembered exactly why I care about that place, those people so dearly. So while it's true, perhaps, that you can't go home again, you can most definitely visit.
"Life is not worth living if you have to explain the joke." --a '94 alum, overheard at breakfast
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