Saturday, January 28, 2012

# 56 of pearls and middle age woes

silver.  pearl.  coral.  ruby.  sapphire.  gold.  this is how dear old mater distinguishes jubilarians. silver is twenty-five. thirty is pearl. coral is thirty-five. and so on. counted in terms of years after graduation from high school. 

silver.  check.  pearl.  check.  coral.  three years away from now. that is where we are.  do the math.  it takes just but a few seconds to know that we have had forty-odd years of life.  to be more exact, we are in the vicinity of middle age.  no one acts like it, much less look like it. we have will and grace. not the comedy show of not too long ago. the will to defy the ravages of time. the grace to face it with stubbornness, if not mirth.

batchmates get together for pocket reunions in between grand alumnae homecomings.  reasons vary.  someone comes home from foreign shores. birthdays.  milestones.  christmas.  all the happy reasons.  inevitably, the sad ones, too. these reunions seesaw in attendance from full-force to smaller intimate gatherings. any which way,  a grand time is enjoyed by all. a well-deserved break from the realities of middle age to relive the carefree high schools days.

the last get-together was of the small, intimate kind. by the time tea was served, everyone was ready for after-dinner talk.  updates on children, domestic affairs, vacations, disclosure of medical woes.  retirement got mentioned a lot, too.  

the flames of this fiery choco mousse is a cue to the evening's steamy revelations. the censored version without the raunchy details was enough to keep everyone riveted to their seats. 

yes, that is hot chocolate and no, we are not showing our age by ordering that instead of the more adventurous options on the menu.  we are, after all, working professionals with eight-to-five jobs out on a weekday.

let the hands do the talking.  any get-together is not complete without the spotlight on someone's love story. could be the unfolding of a brand-new romance or a rehash of last year's fairty tale.  chapter 1 of the story was ho-hum. lacking in tickle-to-the-bone factor. not a surprise as it happened some 25 years ago. 

 chapter 2 provided the oh-my-God-that-couldn't-be-true-shocker-of- the-night gasp.  the punch would have been enough to knock pacquiao down and out. chapter 3 was a love story so sweet, it would make the  ants troop to our table. 

 synchronized elbows on the table could only mean intense fascination with and absorption of the juicy details of middle age romance. the it-is-written-in-the-stars-i-can-wait-forever-fit-for-telenovela kind of romance.  ah, the joys of middle age!

back in high school, the batch was grouped by sections. four for each level. everything and anything was done by sections. from the first year to the senior year. it followed that friendships were developed by sections. rare was the bond that was formed outside of it.  over the years after graduation, sections dissolved. the whole batch is now just collectively known as HS8O.  

it is hard to notice the clock tick away when one is having fun.  a minute longer at the dessert place and the ladies behind the counter would have shooed us away. good times with old friends while cameras click away to capture those special moments.  isn't that awesome? 


  1. I have to admit you lost me after the pic of that fiery choco mousse! You could have stopped right there with Isn't that Awesome! But, I pulled myself together to read on, and hear the joy in one's voice about sharing with classmates. Without a doubt special times and of course "good times, good times"