My cousin told me that my old high school was holding a Grand Alumni Homecoming but 1) it was too late to go; 2) I didn’t bring anything to wear; 3) I didn’t really want to go.

My cousin was able to reconnect me with an old high school friend, however and it’s funny how you just pick up where you’ve left off. B and I became fast friends only after high school and it was cemented one Christmas day when instead of going to hear mass, I cycled to her house for our usual long chats and got involved in an accident on the way home. ‘That’s what you get for skipping mass on Jesus’ birthday, ’ my mother screamed at me through hysterical tears. I only got a few scrapes and bruises, but my bicycle was totalled.

We ended up at a coffee shop (of course), and a few of our batch mates dropped by. Turns out, there wasn’t really much of a crowd this year and B and I were honest in admitting that our social batteries could only handle interactions with people from our class (snooty much?). We figured that look, we’re old, we’re a skip and a hop away from retirement, death or disease, so we might as well do what we actually feel like doing and say what needed to be said.

And of course we all did, which for me was far more productive and satisfying than wearing a one-size-fits-all all alumni shirt and hanging around the school the whole day trying to figure out who that person is claiming you were best friends back in the day.

Life is too short for pointless nostalgia and weak tea, though we’ve reluctantly resurrected an age-old question that has been making the rounds since we left school (and still no answers).

WHERE THE HELL IS SWEET HAZEL VARGAS???