Spare Parts

A voice came calling from the past yesterday. It shouldn't have been a surprise, since we are all preparing for the nostalgia bomb that will no doubt explode this weekend as my wife travels back in time and space to her twenty-fifth high school reunion. The voice was a friend of hers from back in the day - the day of band camp and guilt-free living. This woman who was once a girl called to ask when the festivities were beginning, since she had to make sure that all her kids were in bed or accounted for before she went out to have anything resembling fun.
I was talking to somebody's mom. This was the girl most likely to succeed in a game of turbo quarters. She followed around members of a band before there was such a thing as "stalking." She was, for lack of a better epithet, a "party girl." She was drinking and fooling around with boys just like the boys were drinking and fooling around with girls. She was ahead of her time.
So ahead of her time, as a matter of fact, that she got pregnant and "had to get married" before just about anyone else I knew. At the time, it felt like a tragedy. It felt like an ending, not a beginning. To the surprise of many of us, the marriage has survived and so has she. For all initial appearances, she has thrived. Irregular communications and Christmas cards have given us quick glimpses into the world that she has created.
I'm looking forward to hearing more stories about her life and times. I hope that she is having the time of her life - whatever time that happens to be.