Riv Reunion

Last fall, thinking about my high school reunion, I reached out to friends from college and asked if they wanted to get together this summer. I received a lot of support for the idea. We voted on a date, people replying that they would be there, 100%. Then it fell to me to plan it, because I had started the ball rolling. 

Side note: it's not ever really a good idea to put introverts in charge of event planning.

I sent a message detailing some ideas. Got no response. I reserved a park pavilion in Provo, near where we used to hike, so we could do a cookout and bring families. The invitation has been ignored. I also planned to rent an Airbnb for that weekend and hang out there with friends. Maybe make a reservation for dinner somewhere. 

But after receiving no further encouragement, I am reticent to make further commitment. I should be buying airline tickets, but I haven't even looked. I am afraid that the others' 100% commitment was merely a reflection of momentary enthusiasm.

These are some of the people that I love most in the entire world. I might go years without talking sometimes, because I am a terrible introvert, but I would drop anything to help them. I still send texts on birthdays, and I have organized girls' nights via Zoom. These are the people who began this blogging in the first place, nearly 20 years ago. The ones who loved me and stretched me and taught me and made me into who I am. 

And I fear, deep in my soul, that I have loved them too freely, above what they feel in return; that I have let my hope run away with me and mistaken their conciliation for enthusiasm, their civility for affection; that I have let myself love unrequitedly. Again.