Etched in Stone

I'm a boomer. I vote. I mind the thermostat, keeping the temp just shy of Goldilocksian just rightness.

I'm a boomer. While growing up, the holocaust was still a societal fresh memory. And a couple of atom bombs. And imminent nuclear war, whose threat, ironically, has reared its ugly head again.

I'm a boomer, and just when I'm tempted to think about "greatest generations" and such, I realize I like all of the new people.

I'm a boomer, but I'm not proud. Boomers are old. They act like they were born old. They acted like that and dressed like that when they were growing up. And they grew up. Into these old people.

So I'm a boomer-denier, recalcitrant. I eschew the boomer persona.

Yet, even reborn, rewoke boomers remember things as they were. Things that persist--inert, immutable, and finished--fixed in place--even when life moved on. Perfect casts of those we leave behind, marbled in stone--truth be told.

Like those frozen in place in the ruins of Pompeii.

The story:

I had a crush on this adorable, amazing girl in high school. My puerile unrequited love. In my mind's eye she remained the same all these years: adorable and amazing. Beautiful. Fun. Shapely and sexy and--did I say--adorable. But we never happened.

I used to pray that I'd be OK with whatever God planned, if at just some point in my life she would be with me. Even if it took all my life. Even until my last day on Earth: if I could have her then (and she, me), it'd be just fine and thank you, God.

At reunions, conferences, or pledge drives, I'd ask about her, but no one had the intel. I was dying to know how she turned out. Married to whomever, was she happy?

After alumni pages, new surnames, and deep search engineering, I found a link. Finally. Somewhere down the scrollable site...pictures! I did a [Ctrl+F] of names. There she was.

My God, she looked just like an old boomer! But happy.

And adorable.

BOOM! God had had different plans. And to the x's, millennials, z's, alphas, betwixters, and nexters, my life was way better the way things had turned out.