Reunion

Saturday night was my Class reunion. It wasn't as bad as I had prepared myself for it to be. There was 12 or 13 of us there. Plus a few husbands/wives. Nobody brought dates. We mostly just stood around and talked. It was on the fifteenth floor balcony of our only skyrise here. It was a great view, especially at sunset. I still don't feel nearly as accomplished as everyone else, and I definatly don't have as much money as most of them, but I think I'm just as happy if not happier.
Afterward, four of us who were single and didn't have kids to go home to, went out. We went to this bar over by where the outlet mall used to be. Yes, I went to a bar. No, I didn't drink. I was the only one not drinking, but I'm used to that. I go to a bar about once every five years. That smoky, drunk atmosphere is not really me. This place was full of rednecks and skanky women. Also, I think I inhalled enough second hand smoke to last me another five years.
A high school crush was revived saturday night. It's amazing that after 10 years, I still have the same feelings from high school for this guy. Who knows if anything will ever happen with us. I probably won't see him again until our 20 year reunion. I've been pondering if he's even someone that I need to date. I mean he's nice and all and he does go to Church. But, I know way to well that just going to church means nothing. It's how a guy acts away from church that matters to me. I'm not looking for a guy who cleans up real nice, and seems like a strong christian at church, and then turns around the rest of the week and cusses and get's drunk, and acts totally different. I'm not saying that this guy is like that. He may not be at all, I just don't know. I'm looking for someone who is real. Someone who admits he's not perfect, but strives to be a good man. Someone that respects me and makes me feel good about myself. Most importantly, I 'm looking for someone who loves Christ.
I try my best to be a real person. Someone who acts the same no matter where I am. I do have a lot of layers to myself. Parts of me that I don't let many people into. Mostly because they involve hurt and pain and grief. I also may not be as talkative in some situations as in others. I guess I'm trying to say that I don't go to church pretending to be some super person who never sins. I'll admit I've made mistakes in my life. I've learned from these mistakes, and they've made me who I am today. That's what I like about my church versus where I used to go to church. No one at my church is afraid to admit that they aren't perfect. I'm not afraid of what other's think of me. I don't feel like anyone is judging me or looking down on me. I feel like that's how Jesus was. He didn't care who you had been in the past. He loved you anyway and he welcomed everyone with open arms. Well, it's not how Jesus was, it's how he still is.

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Today was Memorial day. I picked a few flowers from my garden and went to my nephews grave. He would be five and a half now. I know he would be so excited to have a little brother. His grave is at Coleman Cemetary. It's a little cemetary out old Woodbury Hwy. Uncle Dave Macon (a well known guy here, not my uncle) is burried out there also. It's weird, Uncle Dave's son used to rent a room from my great, great grandparents. Uncle Dave came and ate dinner with them some, and later his son came at ate with my Grandparents and my mom and her brother. I think it's strange how in that little cemetary there is a connection that occured totally by accident.
I put my flowers on Christians grave, then I was at a loss for words. I haven't been out there in over six months. Not since my nephew (the one I babysit a lot) was born. There was just so much I wanted to tell him, but I couldn't get most of it out. I wanted to cry, but there was some older man and another guy walking around the cemetary and I just didn't feel as alone with him as I needed to be. Maybe it's silly to visit someones grave and to talk to it, since they aren't even in there anymore, but it's where I feel the most connected to him. It's hard to go out there, it brings back so many memories. I know that he could not have lived, I know that if by some miracle he had, he would have suffered greatly. I'm glad that God took him while he was being born, before he suffered. I only knew him as the baby who kicked my hand from inside my sister's womb and as the baby who layed peacefully in my arms and only looked like he was sleeping.