Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes

I saw a guy darting across traffic this morning, and I thought, "Wow, that looks like Matty B. in 20 years." But then I thought, "Wow, Matty B. is already 24, so I guess it'd be in more like 10 years...or 15?" It's so interesting watching your friends grow up. The changes are so subtle, and you don't really realize until you look at old pictures and notice the sudden absence of chubby cheeks, the straightening of teeth, or, in Matty's case, the addition of about a foot or so. I've known Matty since he was nine, so the changes have been many. At the beginning of eighth grade, he suddenly had this very deep voice and a towering physique. We're still waiting for him to fill out.

Even people I've only known for five years or so: they change. We all look older. As Yea Ming pointed out, many of us have grown bellies. But many of us just suddenly look like grown-ups. I feel like the only thing that's changed about me since high school is my hair, and my ability to walk with confidence in precarious shoes. I'm trying to remember when the change from platforms to stillettos happened. But it happened, and I haven't worn either pair of my wooden shoes in quite some time.

And then it's not just physical; there is a mellowing out that happens for some. Others spiral further out of control.

I'm not the party girl I used to be. But I'm thicker and I can walk in heels. I wear contacts now, but a lot of people never noticed that I wore glasses. It was only for five years. A blink of the great eye of time. (Gag.)

I never have any concept of anyone's age ever. So, to even say something like, "That looks like Matty B. in ten, 15, 20 years..." just doesn't really register with me. It's more like that was future-Matty, some vague distance into the future. When we were nine, I don't think I could have pictured him at 24. And yet, here he is. Here we all are.