To Go or Not To Go

Thirty years ago, I was a senior in high school.  In January, I caught a horrible cold.  For about three months, I was sick.  My breathing was labored due to living in a house with smokers and a town with wood smoke in the air.  I struggled those days and faced the fact that my dream of going to Oregon or Washington for school was completely out of the question.  I had no money.  I settled for in state as far as I could go which meant Billings.

What does this have to do with anything?  I am not sure.  I might just be rambling.  My classmates are beginning to work on our reunion.  A few of them are excited and chatting about past memories and making new ones.  I sit and watch the facebook feeds wondering what my part is in all of this.  I don't want to go.  I want to want to go, but I have feelings of dread. 

The dread doesn't at all stem from seeing any of my classmates.  They are amazing people.  It comes from facing thirty years.  I dread one more activity that takes me away from home and the gardens.  I dread yet another trip to Libby after the ten I took last year with the death of my dad.  I am already planning three trips up there as it is.  I dread not being the me I imagined I would be at this age.  I love my life, but ….  I dread what to do with my daughter if my husband can't come.  And yes, I dread another trip of being slapped with the reality that I can't hang out with Dad.  I miss him a ton.

Yet, I wonder would I regret not going.  I just don't know.