i ran into someone i’d known years ago the other day.
i hadn’t interacted with this person regularly since middle school, hadn’t seen him since high school, so it took me a few minutes to recognize him, not until i’d looked him full in the face.
it’s been over half a decade, and that length of time, especially over the college years, i think, is particularly distancing. we were teenagers when we last saw each other, and now we’ve grown into adults.
what is it about life that makes it feel like a season would stretch for a lifetime? we take for granted who’s there, who’s not. and then – they’re gone, or they appear, and the flavor of life shifts, dramatically, or maybe not, or maybe it’s just the moment that feels suspended or distorted or something well beyond the ordinary, of what you expected, of what the season you were in taught you would be.
i’ve written this here multiple times: life is very different at 23 (!) than i imagined it would be eight years ago. time marches on, tiny hands tick-tocking their way through autumn and winter and spring and summer, over and over again.
…and the next thing you know, a whole year has gone by and you’re writing the wrong date for the next three months.
“i’m turning 24 which is almost 25 which is basically 30,” my cousin said the year she was 23. it was yesterday but it was six years ago.
and the tiny hands of time march on.