It all goes forward.
Whether we are actively aware of it, or whether we aren't, it all goes forward. Constantly.
I suppose I didn't pay attention to it before.
My kids grew, but it was in small bursts, small enough that I shrugged it off, made those old stand-by comments (oh, they're growing like weeds! I can't believe it's time for X birthday already! Didn't I just give birth last week?) But truly, even their growth spurts weren't enough to slap me into reality.
No one died, not really. I was briefly shattered when my grandfather died, but he didn't stay gone long, and I moved forward.
No one got sick, not really.
So there was just no reason, I suppose, to digest the fact that things were going forward, every second, every day.
My face even seemed to stay the same.
And then, like a gunshot ripping thru the silence, my son is six feet tall. The summer-time freckles on my face have turned into permanent age-spots. My grandmother is bloated with cancerous tumors. My girlfriend is no longer a "girlfriend." I have barely spoken to one of my best friends in seven months, and I've removed several more from my life completely.
I am 50 pounds heavier than I was two years ago, with greater confidence than I have carried in 33 years.
I am certain of things that I knew were completely untrue, just months ago. And what I knew to be true not long ago, now leaves me scratching my head.
I miss my girlfriend. But, it was lovely.
I miss my friend, terribly. But I know that people grow apart. And it's ok.
I don't miss the people I've dumped. But I wish things were better for them.
I miss my miniature-self. But I know that this fat ass is no better than a skinny one.
And it all keeps going forward, regardless of what I say, or do.