You know when you’re a child, grown-ups look so big to you; like Gods. They’re your everything. You want to be just like them. They’re so big, so tall. One day, you think, you might be lucky and become that height. Or taller. That thought makes you excited. Adults seem ageless to you. They seem old maybe, but not too old — just older than yourself. And as you get older, you realized they only are getting older, just like you are. You don’t think about it much. That’s just how life is. But the older you get, the more you notice, and the more you think about it; the more it comes across your mind. And then, one day, it hits you without a trace of recognition: that they are becoming older. They don’t look as they once did. They start to morph into a soon-to-be elder before your very eyes. You can’t help but feel sad. Sad because you won’t see them as young as they once was. Sad because the children in their lives will never know them as they were when they were younger. Sad because it’s getting closer, and closer before that day you don’t want to think about — their death.
That’s how I felt when I saw Aunt Kim for the first time in three years. She was the same, but at the same time, she wasn’t. Her once brunette hair was now almost all gray. The very few wrinkles on her face became many. Her healthy, curvy figure had slenderer greatly. The only thing that remained the same was her deep-set pale blue eyes.
It was hard to hide the shock from my face. I bit down on the inside of my cheek, stopping myself from crying out to her, and running into her arms. I knew she wasn’t one to take emotional greetings lightly. “Auntie,” I said.
“Clarissa,” she replied back with that cool voice of her’s. Erik, her only son, and my cousin, stood hovering next to her. He too, had changed since I saw him. He was no longer that lanky, awkward teen that I had see three years ago. He seemed to have grown into his body just right. There was some new muscle added to his figure, and his jawline was sharper. His brown hair shone almost gold in the light, much lighter than Aunt Kim’s, though he did share her blue eyes.
I pinched the bridge of my nose to stop the tears waiting to come. “I missed you,” I tried to say as normally as I could, my voice coming out thick.
“So did we,” she said. She waved her arm in the opposite direction, “Now shall we go? We don’t want to be late.” She then turned, with Erik following, not waiting for my response. I couldn’t help my stomach drop a little. I had forgotten how cold she was. She didn’t care about me, she just wanted to go. I wiped my eyes quickly and walked quickly to catch up with them.
The train sat, waiting, it’s smoke blowing in the cold wind.