Matt arrived today by train from Sacramento for an extended visit that will last until Sunday. Sure, he disembarked one stop too soon. It's an easy mistake, given that the two consecutive stops both start with "Santa Clara"—no big deal.
After taking my mom to lunch at Aqui in Cupertino and dropping her off at her house, we parked on Pineville Ave, in front of his childhood home, and we walked to school. Again, and for the first time in forty-six years, after doing so daily over the six prior years of our lives.
It was filled with memories, so much so that I had to stop and reflect along the sidewalks, pathways and high school corridors to soak in the significance. To recognize the passages and paths of my life. The foundation of our friendship was born on that route and within that campus, and it bore the weight of my own coming-of-age experiences. They are rooted in those hallways and classrooms, as well as throughout the creekside trails and sidewalks.
I found my footing and bearings during these years, gaining much-needed yet never-enough confidence, both academically and socially. I fell in love here. I smacked Holly's butt on a dare, launching a pivotal relationship by doing so, one that remains a substantial core of my identity. I sat on the benches with Sally, asking why she was the only person not to comment on my dramatic weight loss over the summer, only to be told it was because it had never mattered to her. I gave Lisa Dunlap the "Cosmic" necklace, which I later learned had been treasured for years before being passed down to her daughter. I disappointed Mr. Longenetti by not turning in an expected assignment, yet later he expressed sincere support when I mentioned my parents' divorce, which I could not have been happier about at the time. I surprised an English teacher with a creative writing submission and stamped every locker as a senior prank. A 'Porky's' precursor through the skylights above the girls' locker room, Dwane Wood's shorts, and feeling Cindy Samide's breasts against me as we dredged through a box of yearbook photos. Overeaten pot cookies kicking in during the second period. How my cousin Jeri's one year of attendance made me much more popular because she was "a fox". Chuck Copeman and Earl McGoon, a reckless motorcycle ride, and the ignorance and apathy of my youth. The horrific discovery of dear Trinny Vigil's sister's gruesome fate.
This, and dozens of other milestones I have either skipped or simply forgotten, all played out here, as the set and stage that launched me into my adult years.
Maybe 20 years ago, there might have been some bittersweet memories of opportunities missed or connections lost. Today, with the passage of time and more life experience, it's all sweet. It's all good.
"Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it."
― Ferris Bueller