After I kicked my high heels into the back of my closet and tumbled into bed, baby in my arms – after Mitch hung up his dress shirt and brushed his teeth and kissed me goodnight – it occurred to me that this, somehow, felt so adult. Dropping the baby off with the grandparents, dressing up, going to a reunion. At a casino.
Then coming home early, because we all need our precious rest.
That evening, we clinked glasses with people we hadn’t seen in all ten of those years, with folks whose blogs we followed, whose kids we knew, whose lives we’d dropped clean out of. The playing field felt suddenly level, and it hardly mattered what elaborate ties had been made or broken or sordidly tangled over the course of those four years – after ten, they were all sorted out.
There were people I’d looked forward to seeing that I hardly spoke to, because I stumbled into conversations with people I’d forgotten about, people I hadn’t expected to see at all, and those conversations were engrossing enough to eat up entire hours.
Three more years and it will be my turn. Will that make us doubly grown-up?