Class reunion

I knew that the class reunion of our elementary school had been held every year for probably over ten years, because I got its invitation every year. Since I can't hold my liquor, I have avoided those occasions of drinking. But this year when I received the invitation, I unexpectedly wanted to join. Finally my habit of doing new things may have gotten ingrained in me to be my second nature.
 It was three years ago out of the blue in the middle of a night that a gang of my elementary school class mates rang the bell of my house on their way home from a class reunion party and insisted upon seeing me. I was in the middle of teaching my students at home so I needed at least to tell them to leave and go home. I went out of the house and met them at the gate. Some were drunk. They introduced themselves one by one to me who was standing at a loss trying desperately to remember the name I heard right now and to identify the faces I was looking at with the faces left in my memory of my elementary school days. I recognized some of them but some looked a complete stranger. For maybe half an hour we were talking loudly in front of the gate under a dark street lamp about 10 o’clock at night, until they made me promise that I would come to the next year class-reunion. But next two years I didn’t go. No gate-crashing any more. I thought they gave up on me. But it may be this thought that drove me to join them.
Last Saturday at last I went to the class reunion at a Japanese restaurant near my house. I was a bit nervous about seeing people for the second time in over 40 years. When I got into the party room, Oh my god, I was surprised to see all the おじさん and おばさん seated and talking. Though of course I had anticipated changed faces and figures, their degrees of おじさん・おばさん was far beyond my thought. The time has mercilessly changed innocent boys and girls into late middle-aged ladies and gentlemen who seem to know more than enough share of bitter and sour.
But the moment I began talking with them I found myself talking as a school boy. An おばさん I was talking to magically turned into the pretty girl to whom I had a special feeling with, which may be too early and fragile to call love. I was looking at a trace of a boy in the face of an ojisan, when we talked and reminisced about our adventures of climbing up one of the highest trees in a shrine, jumping from one tree to another, or shadowing a "suspicious" man while playing detective which ended up in a good scolding. I realized for the first time in tens of years that I forgot most of those things that were absolutely a part of my life.
The past is past. But at this moment I was spending quality time, sharing the same experiences. The feeling of accomplice?