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  • Writer's pictureLeah Jones

A great tutor.

“Oh man, without this girl I never would have passed physics.” “We had spanish together and I only passed because of her.”

There was something disappointing to me about being remembered as a great tutor and study partner, but not “oh man, we had so much fun together. those were great times.” Instead that I really helped you understand conjugations and inertia.

It was my five year college reunion and I set my expectations low. If anything, I thought it would be fun to see some of the people from Ryan’s wedding. They were there, but our friendship and kindredness was apparently a one weekend in Michigan sort of thing. Lock, Stock, and Barrel was full of people I recognized and probably had a class with, was their RA, or in some sort of leadership thing with. A bar full of people I recognize and very few people I knew. I spoke to a couple people.

Where are you, what are you doing. I’m married, I have a baby, I have a house. The people who are single seemed to feel more out of place and the people who moved away and haven’t been back.

My friend Nick passed me on the way from the bathroom, “Leah, how are you doing with names?” “So far I’ve remembered the name of every person I’ve talked to.” “0 for 4.” “Remember,” I told him, “You were an RA and one of 40. Easier to remember.”

I talked to Brian, now a federal police officer in Chicago. Krista and Josh–now a doctor and graphic designer with a baby in Akron. Nick who is in Boston. And Rich, my mentor and good friend.

It was one of the more bizarre conversations. He has gone from someone that I used to lean on to get through the week and help plan my career, to being someone I have trouble convincing that I chose the right path. Not that it matters, but it was wierd. Some people I still want approval from, but now we can barely fill 5 minutes of chatting.

Growing up and growing apart.

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