I was in New Jersey this past weekend, attending a wedding. I spent the night at my parents' home, the home I grew up in. It was the first time I had been back home in three years.
My childhood house seems incredibly small to me. I felt like a giant, walking in and out of the rooms my brothers and I slept in. The toilets felt small. The kitchen felt small. The driveway in which I parked my car felt small.
Even when I walked outside, the feeling didn't leave me. I had to walk to my friend's place in the morning and as a kid I remember how long that walk was. This past weekend, I was somewhat startled making the turn at the corner from my street to his street, and seeing him so nearby.
Distances that used to be far are now short. Things that used to be big are now small. Maybe that's what being a grown-up is.
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