We all knew the reunion would zoom by at light speed. A warp through the black hole of time through which we once again glimpsed what was, assimilated with a prescient present.
We rode the wave to it's crest and shot the curl, and the separation anxiety set in like footprints in cement. A titanic, sinking feeling clutched at our hearts as the last gasps of that glorious day set on the sons and daughters of Omega, dazed .
Reeling at the reality, realizing that something fine flew by, we stumbled back to the middle ages. What time is it, boys and girls? It's Omega time! Where's Buffalo Bob when we need him? Why can't we switch on our senses and see the past as clearly as the present? Why? Because it only lives when we become one
Flurries of phone calls, reams of emails, all sweet sentiments indeed. And on the horizon rises an esoteric reunion, by using our unity to uplift those who may be poised on the cusp of greatness but for a gift of gratitude from those who grew up in that gabled house, aching for those acres that cradled, coddled and carved our characters.
Of all the images in the pictures and videos, the most memorable may be the smiles. Goofy grins, ear to ear, kids again. We may never know what made it so. And who cares? Reason is irrelevant. We've been infected with an incurable connection, an eponymous epidemic contracted at camp.
If we can dream ourselves awake, perhaps Omega lives on as the ultimate, the apex, made not of dirt and wood but built on a foundation that formed and forged us, and led us on an intangible and tangential journey to a long-overdue day. And now, launched on a trajectory to a greater good, we have the chance to create a loving legacy that may stand as an inspiration to future generations, based on that secret formula: Love over time = Omega.
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