There And Back Again (yeah, I took that from the Hobbit. Sorry, Bilbo.)

I grinned at myself in the mirror and added a final line of kohl under my right eye. Then, snapping the lid shut, I proceeded to put the tube away and rearrange my hair - which I had done ten times hitherto. My mum, watching amusedly from the doorway, finally voiced the question she'd been itching to ask the whole day. 'Are you sure you want to do this? You know it's been a long time.'

I turned to her and let out a small sigh. 'Mum,' I said. 'This might be the last time that we'd get to meet like this. I...I need to see them.' One beat of understanding later, she nodded and returned to the kitchen, to put the finishing touches on her famous au gratin, which she'd prepared specially for this occasion.

Hell, she didn't realize the depths of nervousness my stomach sank into the moment she left. I was meeting up with my old friends, friends who had stuck with me right from first grade, and who had experienced each stage of growth with me up till that point. And yet, this strong friendship had somehow dissolved almost to nothingness, when we made new friends in high school and allowed bitterness and jealousy to ensue between us.

Now, four years later, we were meeting up, with old-but-new faces, new haircuts, clothes and attitudes. Would we still be able to talk as easily as we did so long ago, or would the dinner be four awkward hours of stilted small talk and frozen conversation?

I had no time to dwell on this, as the doorbell rang, and they stepped in, one by one, scrutinizing the place which, for a long time, had been our main hangout.  And thankfully, not much had changed. Slowly, they ambled to the couches and sat down, avoiding each others 'eyes. My worst fears were coming true. I gulped and began doling out the juice and hors d' oeuvres. 'Thank you,' one of the guys said softly, before delicately biting into the pastry.

My mind was spinning. Thank you?  In the past, this particular fellow would have simply swatted my hand away from the plate, grabbed a couple of pieces for himself, and scarfed down the lot. It would have been so rude...so boorish...and so comfortable.

My temper of old rose, and prompted me to raise my hand and smack the back of his head. 'Idiot!' I snapped. 'Stop being so polite!' He was so startled that he simply stared at me, eyes bugging out and mouth opening and shutting like that of a goldfish. However, my slap had done the trick; the proverbial ice was cracked, and everyone burst out laughing at his face.

After that, it was easy to melt into the banter of old. We joked about our new appearances, reminisced about our childhood friends and classmates, and the guy I mentioned earlier began gulping down the starters ten at a time - just to spite me for the smack he'd earned. I loved it.

When my mum brought out the au gratin, my friends roared with joy, for this was  one dish that had virtually become the bane of our existence for two days, during the French exhibition - one of our fondest memories of the 8th grade.

Needless to say, conversation flowed like an open bottle of wine during dinner. We talked about everything under the sun - books( yes, the paperback kind), movies, games, fan fiction, crushes(even the guys) and life after school. We even sorted out the problems between us, although it took barely five minutes, with an explanation and apology from the guilty party, and a shrug and a 'Chill, man, it's all cool now,' from the other side. I looked up, and caught my mum smiling at us from the doorway, proud and happy. I grinned at her and gave her a thumbs-up.

In the end, when it was time to go, one of the girls turned to me and opened her mouth hesitantly. Everyone else stopped whatever they were doing and looked at us. She let out a sigh and gave me a brilliant smile. 'Thanks, Aditi,' she said softly. 'Thanks for calling us...I'm so glad we could meet up like this.' I stepped forward and hugged her. The next moment, I was engulfed in a group hug, as arms came around everywhere. It was a perfect, shining moment.

After the hug, I stood at the door and waved goodbye to everyone as they left, one by one, disappearing behind the gleaming doors of the elevator, their happy grins the last I'd see of them for a while. However, I wasn't upset - not at all. We had parted as old friends should, not with tears and flowery promises to reunite, but with fresh, happy memories of our past, memories that made us grin and realize that our years together had made us who we were, and it felt wonderful to visit that place for a while. We realized that we'd all gained a return-gift of sorts from the dinner I'd hosted - golden remembrances, the strength of renewed friendship, which would be actively pursued on Facebook, and hope, hope that come what may, if we did meet up again, we'd be able to hold on to our camaraderie. It was enough for us at the moment, quite enough.