By Tiffany Reiger 
My 20-year high school reunion is coming up, but I don’t know if I will go. High school wasn’t the happiest time for me. Like a lot of teens, I spent a lot of it lost, sad, and feeling horribly unworthy. Feelings that followed me through many more years.
So much has changed, but inside this 37-year-old soul, there is a woman who holds on to some things that are forever 17. I am not proud to say I still wage war against my body and spend too much time wishing I were thinner. I would still rather read a book than play any kind of game or sport. The wallflower in me still feels nervous in groups.
But what would 17-year-old me feel about who she became at 37? Would she be proud? Would she be disappointed? If I could talk to her, what would I say to her?
She would be awed at the places she has been. She would be so proud of her schooling and her work. She would be floored at the friends who turned into family and her beautiful marriage. A happy marriage and faithful friends were her greatest hopes. I would love to tell her she gets both.
I know she would balk at the thought of having kids. She would have turned her nose up at the tattoos and nose piercing. She would have been embarrassed at the late-night college party shenanigans. She would be so disappointed that a band she wrote off is now a favorite. I would love to tell her it’s okay to change your mind.
She would be devastated at the losses ahead of her. Of friends. Of love (or what she thought was love). Of her dad. Of other things much harder to speak on. If she saw what was ahead, I think she might have been paralyzed with fear. But I would tell her the painful moments are where you turn sorrow into strength.
We all have grand dreams after high school. And the world has a knack for knocking us back. While some of those dreams have been realized, thank God some have not. I am so glad 17-year-old me was not in charge of my destiny. I’d tell her it’s okay not to know. We all thought we knew best back then, but now we are wise enough to know we still don’t know best. We just do our best with what we know.
The girl I was at 17 feels like a stranger and an old friend. Sometimes I can feel catapulted back to that time. Seventeen was carefree but also insecure. Thirty-seven is much more stressed, but much more strong. Sometimes I feel like a completely different person than I was back then, and I’ve been several different people since. Not all versions have been the best. But each version has taught me along the way.
Seventeen-year-old me swore she would never go to a high school reunion. I’d tell 17-year-old me to never say never because 37-year-old me is considering it. What if my classmates have traveled similar journeys? Learning and growing from mistakes, giving themselves and others a lot more grace? Perhaps we could meet again. This time as old friends.
by Lindsay Walter 
