I went to my five year high school class reunion ten years ago (yes, I am that old) and was really unimpressed and haven't managed to make it back since (that and I live 800 miles away). I really don't have any friends I'd like to catch up with and have far too many painful memories I'd rather not rehash, yet curiosity drove my husband to check out the Facebook page for the recent fifteenth reunion and it makes me glad I didn't go. We might have aged a little, but there, right in front, were the people who tormented, ostracized, and belittled me for thirteen long years simply for being myself. Part of me would like to go back and show them that I am a success, however you define the word, but a wiser part of me knows they won't care, they'll never be impressed (most especially by my relatively modest achievements), and an even wiser part of me wonders why I care what they think at all. Just looking at those photos gives me a sick feeling in my stomach, even fifteen years later; haven't I outgrown this?
Whoever coined the phrase, 'sticks and stones may break my bones, but words shall never hurt me,' never endured junior high. I've had a broken bone, and though it hurt, at least it was only until it healed. Wounds to the heart, especially chronic ones, take a very long time to heal, if they ever do. If you teach your children anything, let it be to treat others gently and as they would be treated.
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