One phrase. So many awkward memories. Standing there, hoping that a cheek-pinch isn't impending, smiling and nodding. Trying to figure out if there's an appropriate response to the obvious statement and deciding that telling your distant elderly relative that one typically does grow between the ages of 12 and 16 is probably rude. Continuing to smile and nod, like an idiot. Hoping that the topic of your diapers being changed what feels like just yesterday doesn't come up. Being polite until something serves as a distraction to the fact that, yes, you've grown and that, wow, you're already in grade 10. Never being so happy to change the topic of conversation to how absolutely divine the aspic looks. And you smile and you nod because you don't understand how meat suspended in green jelly can be delightful.

And then you get it (the part before the aspic, at least). One day, over a decade later, you're perusing Facebook and come across the profile of your friend's younger sibling that you haven't seen since they were thirteen. Or, in talking with your parents, you realize that the kid you used to babysit is graduating from high school. Wow, they've grown up. They look so mature. It doesn't seem so long ago that you were changing her diaper or preventing her from climbing to the top of the pantry to get access to the cookies or allowing him to sleep at the foot of the bed during your sleepover.

Why do we find this to be such a shocker? I doubt that a koala has to pause for reflection when the joey emerges from the pouch to contemplate how, only six months ago, the furry baby was a mere quarter-inch long, hairless, and blind. Who knows, maybe they do, for a split second, before realizing that eating more eucalyptus is probably a better use of time. 

Yup, time passes and people grow up. We all do. But we don't seem to acknowledge that we're growing up in the moment. When you're a kid, as Seinfeld humorously observed when his standup was actually relevant, everything is "up". As teenagers, we're too busy trying to get it over with that we don't take the time to savour the moment (I doubt that many 16-year-olds would consider that there's much worth savouring). When I was in high school, the focus was the future. Saving money for post-secondary education. Keeping grades up and participating in extracurriculars so that they'd accept my money. Sure, there were typical teenage diversions but, for the most part, these were mainly an effort to combat the boredom that is the source of most teenage angst, along with the feeling that everything fun and free and engaging is beyond ones reach. Being so eager for time to pass, it's hard to live in the moment.

And then, for reasons I have yet to comprehend, just as things get interesting, time speeds up. All of a sudden you're living in a future that seemed oh so distant no that long ago. And one of the few things that makes you stop to reflect is being forced to acknowledge it by the things around you that have changed. Of these things, people growing up is probably the most jolting and least easy to ignore. Combined with the memories that are brought back into focus, you are provided an opportunity to relive them without begrudging them. 

The one typical phrase omitted from the interaction outlined at the start is the elderly person reflecting on what she was doing when she was your age. As the younger person it's easy to be cynical, assuming that the older relative thinks that you must share things in common besides DNA because you were once the same age or that they're trying to convince you that life was either more difficult (walking to school, uphill both ways) or more virtuous (none of that hanky-panky) or both back in 1935. Instead, at mere the sight of you, the older person might be just be jarred into reviving their younger years—vicariously with a dash of nostalgia. And you smile. And you nod. Until you get it.