This morning I got a letter from my university Alumni association inviting me to a reunion in summer. With lots of activities planned and the chance to go back and see how the university has changed over the years, it’s an interesting prospect…but, then I thought about it and what it actually means. 20 years ago in September I started my first semester at university. 20 years ago!! OMG.
I remember walking into the halls on the first day, discovering that I was in the only hall of residence dedicated to segregated living arrangements…that my parents thought they needed to make friends for me…that my mum was heartbroken I was leaving home, despite telling me for years to go out and be independent…that I really didn’t have a clue what I wanted to do with my education…and that I was surrounded by a lot of young people who just wanted to get drunk a lot.
The really good thing is that 20 years on, I’m still in touch with a lot of the people I met at uni – even some of those I met on the first day. Some of them, I don’t see very often, but still count as “true” friends. The memories from the uni years are priceless, but do I want to go back without the people I call friends?
Not sure…
One of my uni friends is getting married this Summer – I’m sure there’s an opportunity to catch up with other alumni at his wedding. We’re all “growing up” slowly but surely…weddings, kids, (divorce/splits) – we’re a different group now, but there’s something that links us all…
The Trouble with Tribbles 