It arrived in the mail sometime last week.

I was expecting it and unceremoniously opened the piece of mail, having already spent a few days contemplating its pros and cons.

The invitation for my 10 year high school reunion was decked out in our school's colors -- black and gold -- with our Spartan mascot emblem in the background.

I've long gotten past the initial disbelief that 10 years have passed since I last walked the halls of Sycamore High School -- it could have been a lifetime ago. The woman I am today doesn't have much in common with the girl I was in 2002.

Those I was close with in high school who mean the most to me are still a regular fixture in my life -- though that number is fewer than I would have guessed 10 years ago -- and those who are simply acquaintances, well, we've caught up on Facebook.

The invitation's arrival even prompted a discussion with a colleague on the relevance of high school reunions in today's social media-connected world. Facebook is essentially an on-going virtual reunion without the catering and awkward conversation. Instead of alcohol to buffer that awkwardness, you can hide behind your computer screen, lingering long enough to satisfy any curiosity about what the prom queen or quarterback or class clown is up to these days.

It's interesting to see the directions people have taken since high school -- sometimes going exactly where you'd expect, other times venturing far outside of the stereotype high school boxed them into.

But as much as reunions focus on how far we've come, they also rehash the past. I didn't have a traumatic high school experience, but it's certainly not a time I wish to revisit. I was kind of awkward, not very self-aware and made decisions I now recognize as nothing short of idiotic, though I'm probably the only one who remembers the worst of it. (We're all our own worst critic, right?)

And while it might be nice to show off how far I've come during the last decade, I don't have anything to prove. Chances are it would be another 10 years before I saw most of them again anyway.

I also can't quite kick the notion that everyone will just hang out with the people they've already kept in touch with. If I go, that's likely what I'll do.

My best friend and I have already done the "I'll go if you're going" thing and I know we're not the only ones (thank you, Facebook).

So, I could spend the $100 (not including travel) for my husband and I to go. The food will be good, there will be an open bar and there's always the chance that I might have a more pleasant experience than I would have had a decade ago with the same group of people.

Or I could stay home, open a bottle of wine and log onto Facebook.

Katie McCarthy, features writer, can be reached at kmccarthy@ledger-enquirer.com or 706-571-8515. Read more commentary on her Intellectual Junk Food blog.