When you’re flying back home for the holiday season, chances are you’ll bump into someone you know while waiting at the gate. Yesterday, it was an old high school friend I haven’t seen in over four years. He was two years above me (a huge difference back then) and would give me all sorts of juicy gossip about the school that only an upperclassman could give. I’m not sure what I offered in return — maybe a chance for him to play the mentor or sensei or something — much like how teachers and coaches find meaning in their careers.
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“I’ve lost contact with almost everyone [back in high school],” I told him.
“Me, too! Except for a few.”
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For a brief moment I romanticized the idea of hanging around the airport more often. Grocery store lines, bus stations, convention centers, and so on.
Then I realized I’d rather carry on with life.
