Routines

"How were we never tired?" Brandon asked, loudly, with a smile on his face and wine in his glass.

We were sitting in a kitchen we spent most of our high school years in, but neither of us lived there. Michelle did, who was sitting in a chair opposite me, munching on M&M's. Back then Coca Cola and Salt & Vinegar potato chips lined the table, not the wine and cheese (and M&M's) that were there now. We lived in that kitchen so many years ago; I knew it as well as I knew my own.

We were having a small reunion - there were seven of us there. Seven who lived through high school together, all part of the same drama club. Some were back in town, visiting family, which was why we planned the impromptu get together earlier that day through excited text messages full of exclamation marks and smiley faces. We hadn't changed, really - seeing old friends was like hearing a long forgotten song - full of initial excitement, seasoned memories, and a familiar smile inducing comfort.

Back in high school we had a routine. Every morning I'd wake up, shake off the unyielding sleep, and get ready. Moments later I'd hear the welcoming hum of a motor outside my window - Brandon was there. Jumping in his white Audi, we'd drive to a Katie and Andrew's house a few streets over. As Brandon and I would giggle about events from the previous night, we'd wait patiently for the two to emerged. They were always running late; their mom would give us the friendly "they're coming, I swear" wave. Walking to the car, the two would fight over who got shotgun, as I graciously gave up my spot for the back seat. Andrew always won, pulling Katie out of the car, and she'd sit next to me, applying her makeup diligently while we drove to school. Andrew would put on The Bloodhound Gang CD he loved and we'd all sing along. A few minutes later, we'd pick up Jen and pull into our school's parking lot.

Rather than piling back into the car at the end of the day, after long hours of classes that weren't nearly as interesting as the events of the day, we'd stay in the drama room until play practice started. Sometimes we ran across the street for smoothies, pizza, or subs at the local hangouts that only stayed in business due to after school activities. Rehearsal usually lasted until 11 or so and then, after hours of memorizing lines, goofing around backstage, and building sets/costumes, we'd finally pile back into the car, put back on the CD, and head on home, laughing about the night's rehearsal.

It was a routine, one we lived by, one we never got tired of. Every day was the same, structurally, but different. Every moment was fantastic when we were outside of classes and with one another. And even though there were long hours, we never really noticed it. Moments and years passed by quickly, yet we always took advantage of them.

Routines like that I miss. Ones that were full of life and living, rather than the daily one I encounter now. Wake up, go to work, come home, go to sleep. Every day is the same. No rehearsal, no singalong drive.

I didn't want to leave last night. Being there, back with everyone in the same spotless kitchen, I felt right. Nights like those make me wish I was Sal Paradise - I wanted to keep going, drive through the night with them until morning and then the next morning and then the next. Never looking back and ignoring all responsibilities. But with age also comes maturity and I knew that the magic couldn't last.

So, instead of explaining it all, I answered bluntly.

"We were, but we ignored it. We had so much fun with one another that it never really mattered."

We're hanging out again tonight. Hopefully we'll create a new routine, one we can continue coming back to all these years later.