The Passage of Time

I haven’t seen my grandmother in almost seven years. Same goes for my cousins and my aunts that also live in Taiwan. The pictures I had of them in my mind all this time was drastically different from the one that greeted me when I actually arrived. My aunts haven’t changed much in the past few years. Neither have my uncles. Children and seniors are a different thing.

My cousin has taller than me now. He used to be a small, skinny little boy who didn’t wear glasses and laughed and played with us when my sister and I were younger. Now he’s tall, still pretty skinny, and rather quiet. Or perhaps it was because of the setting. Either way. He still looks like himself though, just older, which was good to know.

My grandmother, on the other hand, seems to have shrunk even more. Her skin hangs on her bones, limp and pale white. I can see her veins through that pale skin, thick and green. Her clothes are baggy and she only wears undershirts in the house because of the heat. Her hair is short now, cropped closer to her head and almost completely white. When she still lived at my house seven years ago it was only slightly gray and curly from constantly being permed. More wrinkles seem to have accumulated on her face.

I know her, and at the same time, I don’t know her.


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