After reading Heather’s post about high school photos, I turned to a photo that I keep on my desk at work. In this picture, Ben and I are 17 and a couple weeks shy of our first date. At this point, we have barely spoken to each other -- I just grabbed him and pulled him over so my friend could take a picture of us together.
Only recently have I started to notice that we look like kids in this picture -- Ben, especially.
I’m not sure when it happened, but we’ve started to look like we’re adults.
We've got our 10 year high school reunion coming up this year and I'm sort of dreading seeing how old we all are going to look. Despite the fact seeing a beer gut on a jock might bring me some short-term pleasure, the fact that we're all documenting the aging process brings out all my death issues.
I think I may have inherited this from my grandfather who, after attending his 50 year high school reunion in Cleveland (and after driving cross-country and getting sick to the point of near-death), came back home and uttered a simple phrase that summed up his reunion: