The 20th reunion is a fundamentally different beast than the 10th. Stripped of most pretense, memories fogging, class mates arrive with both less and more in common. We have a dimly remembered past, with most of the bad washed out over time, and a lot of great stories that have occurred in the length of time that exceeded our maximum time together.

I found talking with old friends and enemies to be quite cathartic. I liked stepping up to people I used to detest to shake hands and share a laugh. I liked who these people had become, and I liked what I had become. Uncomfortable edges worn smooth like river rocks.

Going down the River, bobbing like old men in a sauna but really young boys in perfect water, responsibilities, debts, promises forgotten under the hot son, cracking jokes (is that how you got your beautiful wife to marry you? look out for those dangerous, carnivorous cattle). We sprayed water at each other and laughed so hard my sides hurt. You couldn't tell it from the pictures, but that was one of the best days of my life.

How do we lose track of these people we spent our youth on? I suspect I never really knew them, nor what they would become. Certainly I never thought to be the person I seem to be. Reflections are more honest than the perspective I get peering out from lidded eyes. At my tenth reunion I couldn't leave fast enough. My twentieth - I helped close out the park. What lovely days.