Thursday, February 16, 2006
Table legs. That is the affectionate moniker my three best girlfriends and I were given in high school.
The nickname had something to do with the fact that there were four of us, and we were rarely seen apart. I'm sure we could think of something more clever and meaningful if given another chance.
Today, I fly home for Tracy's wedding. She is the third of the four "table legs" to get married.
Before graduation, we sat down with our moms for a luncheon and played a guessing game. "Who would be the last to get married?" "Who would end up living the farthest from Iowa?" "Who would have the first baby?"
I don't remember the guesses, but I am on my way to being the answers, or at least some of them. I've spent the past two weeks reflecting on what I've accomplished, where I am in life and where I thought I would be. I think it's customary for a woman to do so in the days before her final childhood girlfriend gets married.
Or maybe it's just me.
At 27, I've found myself in a transitional phase. Half of my friends are engaged, married or married with children. The other half is not ready or interested in any of the three.
I am somewhere in the middle, and part of me wonders whether Steamboat Springs is the reason.
Most days, I still feel as though I'm in college, because my routine is very similar. Instead of going to class, I work -- a lot. When I'm not working, I'm usually with friends who also are not worrying about their futures or responsibilities.
It isn't until another wedding invitation arrives or a friend sends pictures of her baby, that the mind snaps back to reality.
This weekend, my assembled high school will sit at tables and talk about our lives. My childhood friends, many of whom know I live in a ski town, will ask about Steamboat. I'll say everything is great, which it is.
I am approaching 30 and am starting to get family pressure to remember that. I have no regrets. I had a chance to be away from my safety net, and I took it.
I had the chance to move to a place where I knew no one and learned how to mountain bike, snowboard and rock climb. While my friends move on with their lives, I continue to move on with mine. We are just going in slightly different directions. Most roads have detours that allow the driver
to take the scenic route before settling back in with the traffic.
I've discovered that is what Steamboat Springs is for many twenty-somethings -- the scenic route.