The oblivion of growth

It baffles me how adults and the elderly find growth such an amusing prospect. It was a thought that struck me a few days ago when I bumped into an old friend of mine from piano class, along with her mother at church. While I was surprised to see them there, especially since it's been four years now since our last encounter, I think they were even more taken aback over the brief reunion. My friend didn't say much in particular, but her mother was astounded at the sight of me. Apparently I'd lost some weight (that's what they all say) and had become prettier, according to her. Personally, I never take such compliments into account, although I did thank them and wished them well on their way. Anyhow, this occurrence made me reflect on the numerous encounters I've had in the past few weeks with people who have been a huge faction of my childhood, whom I haven't seen in the longest time until as of late. Their responses towards me, although in varying forms of speech, were unanimous. I had grown, and it somewhat fascinated them that I did.

Well, isn't that strange, considering how we're constantly told that we know ourselves best and yet the slightest difference on ourselves go personally unnoticed, but picked out by others?

I have yet to be presented with answers as to why older people react as they do when they finally see me or my sister at reunions after having not laid their eyes on us for an extended period of time. And there's also that question of if we're fit to be betrothed to someone when they know very well marriage is a concept that takes its course in a timely manner. Even though I see their good intentions and their wildly bygone sense of humor, it puzzles me how such sentiments come into play au naturale.

When I look at myself in the mirror, I see the same girl I was for the past eighteen years of my life and I begin to question if I was any different back then from the person I am now. Surely, certain changes have taken place in growth or in character, but why does its occurrence interest us in the first place? One of the answers frequently employed resound that growth is directly proportional to the passing of time. I for one, find that difficult to argue upon, but that cannot be the final answer. After all, it is a correlation and not causation, for growth does not cause time and neither does it occur vice versa. I have yet to discover what this third variable is, and it is beginning to frustrate me a little.

Sometimes I wonder if I might someday become like them, so easily amused by a difference in size and stature in spite of very well-knowing that it is inevitable. Will I laugh heartily while commenting on how quickly the greater days have come and gone? Or will I let the reign of nostalgia terrorize me at the sight of a grown infant, or my own sagging skin? Will the wrinkles be a testament of joy to having lived the life, or will I hold back and allow the recesses of a regretful past permeate my memory?

A pile of disorganized thoughts in my mind, that's what this is.