I got an email last week: "Our tenth reunion is coming up, and we're putting together a student profile booklet. Please write a short bio and email it to ..."
Occupation: Barista, former (and, hopefully, future) social worker/ teacher for young children with disabilities
Marital status: married for almost six years to a musician/ worship leader, soon-to-be mother, owner of one very cool golden retriever
Interests: The summer after graduation, I was adopted by my step-dad, so the last name that you remember is no longer my maiden name. I've moved every year since high school. I spent three years at Auburn, where I lost 60 lbs, worked for a church, fell in love, and earned a degree. I was married in 2000, and since then I've been to North Carolina, Kansas, Colorado, and all manner of youth camps in between. I owned a house for a while, then lived in Nashville for a while. Last year, I lived in Birmingham, where I was reaquainted with Stephanie and got to see her baby born. After that, my husband and I quit our jobs to go to Kansas City, where we lived in a basement and prayed. Since then, I've been living in my parents' extra bedroom in Slap-Out and working in a coffee shop. I enjoy hiking, paddling, reading, and prayer, until recently, when my faith has been stretched thin as a result of life circumstances. I'm having a baby on Christmas Day.
The thing is, I really liked high school. And it would be fun to participate in all of the reunion festivities - fun, that is, if I could answer the "What are you doing now?" questions coherently. But I can't. I would love to go to a reunion, JUST NOT RIGHT NOW. I can argue this both ways - I can say, I have nothing to prove, so I don't need to go. But if I meant that, and I really didn't have anything to prove, then I WOULD go.
So there it is - the ugly truth about me and my ten year reunion. I deleted the email requesting a bio. This time around, I prefer to remain a rumor. Maybe by my 20th, I'll have a life that fits into a paragraph.