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By Sohini Saini

I must admit, I’m a bit perplexed.

I’m greeted with a common verdict by every familiar face,

a moment of contemplation after a door opens

a moment of reverie before hearing the same old cry,

“Look how much you’ve grown”

I mean, of course I’ve grown.

Perhaps the pencil markings on our wall are proof of that.

A rambunctious ball of energy now grown into a proper woman,

standing at 5 feet and 7 inches exactly.

My hands, calloused from gripping colored pencils too tightly 

grew to hold a 6-inch screen and glide over laptop keys all day,

for whenever drawing became too uninspiring.

Of course I’ve grown.

I can drive, for goodness sake.

I’ve gone from booster seat to driver’s seat,

yet I still yell “Horses!” every time we pass the vet school near my friend’s house.

Feet that once dangled from the back seat now rest on the pedals,

dressed in leather boots instead of light-up sneakers.

Perhaps the growth that is so praised is of a different kind entirely,

Indeed, I’m now taller than the most recent pencil marking on my wall,

meaning I’ve grown taller than my mother–

The date scribbled in graphite marks the last time she’ll have measured me.

Suddenly I no longer draw,

My recent works consist of diagrams from calculus notes,

with colors becoming tools for memorization instead of expressions of art.

Now, I brace myself as I drive, hoping to never see horses near my friend’s house,

breathing a sigh of relief when the enclosures for sick animals are empty.

Perhaps this growth is measured by the heart and mind rather than feet and inches,

and perhaps it’s only natural that time moves forward faster than we can count backwards.