goodbye, hello

Friday night, we hosted our first party at the new place—a goodbye party for our friend Jess. She worked with Col at Burton—has this amazing talent for textiles. But then Nike swooped her up. So she's off to Portland, Oregon, like somebody else I know and we bade her farewell with good music, happy people, friendly neighbors, a special guest and cheese curls. I guess it's lucky our chairs haven't come yet for the lounge area, cause it made a sweet dance floor for the festivities. Here's Jess:


The next day, Col and I headed up to my parents' house in Derby to see Aunt Lucy & Uncle John and attend my 10-year high school reunion (yes, just 10 years). Right outside of Newport, we passed Little John's gas station and I saw my friends Mandy and Sarah standing in the parking lot by the side of the road. I pulled in. There was a tow truck with Sarah and Joe's car on top. The car was all smashed up in the front. They had just been in an accident!

Luckily, no one was hurt—except for Rosita the car, R.I.P.—and pretty soon, we were back in the saddle and on our way to reunion. It took place at Paul's Sugar House in Derby. Hidden way back in the woods not too far from the Canadian border. We drove right past it the first time. We finally found it, but then we were nervous to go inside. We shouldn't have been. It was so much fun! So great to say hello to old friends. So interesting to see how much people have changed—or stayed the same. It's hard not to wonder, have I changed or stayed the same? Colin had a good time, too, I think.

The thing ended around 10:30, but I don't think people weren't ready to say goodbye. And so we filtered out to the parking lot and did some more chatting and catching up out there. We were so preoccupied with our conversation, that eventually we looked around us only to realize that we were the only ones left: Mandy & Ryan, Sarah and Joe, and Me and Col. Everyone else was gone! We stayed for another 20 minutes or so. Then Paul (you know, from Paul's Sugarhouse) came out and started talking to us. What a sweet old man. He had such a thick French-Canadian accent and his skin was all weathered. He told us about his business—how the 9000 maples he taps are so unpredictable, that he supplements his income with the wedding/celebration business. (Lots of people have their receptions there apparently.) He's been doing it for thirty years.

Any-who. I'm rambling now, cause I'm too tired to edit my thoughts. Here's a picture of Sarah, Mandy and Me, 10 years later, in the parking lot of Paul's Sugarhouse:


You know what? I think I can answer my own question: I don't think any of us have changed much at all (a part from the weddings and careers and new homes and new cities). And that's a good thing, I think. It's a constant we can count on...