Another Blast From the Past

She said it. A friend from high school mentioned "blast from the past." And I have nothing but to agree with her. Santi sent me this link to a group on Facebook, and I went to its destination. I couldn't see anything as I wasn't a registered member of Facebook. Should I join Facebook? But what is this thing that Santi sent me? Curiosity got the best of me because instead of going to bed early as I wanted, I spent the next couple hours registering for a membership, feeling my way through the site, and read up all the Help guides to understand the whole thing that made up Facebook. After finally updating some basic information about myself, I went back to the link Santi sent.

I was floored; speechless. I guess someone had set up a social group for those who share a common thread: the school I attended throughout junior and senior high. At first, the reaction was alright. Then I started to explore a little bit, like seeing who the members of this group were. Then I felt really old. Everybody were alums from classes of years past my college graduation, except for one, Santi. She said it best! "I must be a dinosaur here!" I started to think which of the prehistoric species I should nickname myself after.

While exploring the group, I did not recognize most of the names. After all, they came after I graduated. But then, I was slowly getting sudden rushes of lightheaded feelings. A last name jumped out from this big list of members. I instantly relived moments long ago, those of which I have carefully filed in the recesses of my deepest and innermost memories. Although I was looking at the computer screen, I did not scroll. I just stared blankly ahead, and scenes from my younger self appeared, as if a movie producer or editor was fast forwarding a movie sequence, pausing here and there looking at finer details of specific special scenes.

And there I sat for a long time, fixated on a blank spot on the screen. Then another last name popped up, and this time the feeling was ever stronger, reliving an old life ever longer. And that led me to one of the darkest moments of my life—a period that I have never shared with anyone, maybe with the exception of briefly brushing the subject while talking with Amber once. It was the darkest 18 months that I have ever lived through.

As an adult now, I still can't imagine how I was able to survive those months. And no, it has nothing to do with girls, if that's what you were suspecting. Then I started thinking about the catalysts that pulled me through, and how I came to become the person that I am today, which is leaps and bounds over the old self. Sure, you may recognize the same face on the outside, but if you knew me during those 18 months, you'd wonder if it was the same person you were talking to. As I probed the possibilities of who I should really credit for my understated rebound, two names came up: The Irvin family and the Bradley sisters. They probably don't realize the immense impact they have on my life, but they should not be surprised that after all these years, we're still close and remain in touch with each other.

Tears started to trickle down my face. Okay, that's enough of that. I turned off the computer screen, and looked at the clock. Perhaps it was better that turn in and return to memory lane another time.