A Time Capsule of Time

A lot can happen in one year.

I feel like I used to know my family a lot more-the family on my dad's side, that is. Not that I was really old enough to remember it, but considering I lived only two hours away, I was there at my grandparents' house quite a bit. My dad and his two sisters brought their families to the house, conveniently close to the beach, and we would hunt for Easter eggs, ride the carousel, go swimming, play games, and, of course, watch the Sound of Music. They still do that all the time, with each other, but since my family moved away when I was six, I only get to see them there once a year. And every year, it's kind of a shock to see how everyone has stayed the same, but is different in so many ways.

When I was about ten, I made a profile of the cousins on my dad's side of the family. Believe it or not, we're pretty easy to classify into simple roles based on our interests. My eldest cousin, who's in his early twenties now, was always the "older" one, who loves politics and debating. His younger sister, one of my favorite people in the world, was/is everything-the soccer player, the babysitter, and, most recently, the Tufts student. Then there are the kids of my dad's younger sister, my senior-in-high-school cousin, who used to have tufts of yellow hair that later wound itself into tight curls, the logical actress. Her sister, who's about six months younger than me, always stood out as the louder and athletic one, with her main sport being swimming. My younger brother is the cute little one, who everyone still thinks is eight, even though he's actually eleven and a half. I've never been sure of where I fit in-the musical one? The writing one? The long-haired one, even though I haven't always had long hair? Anyway, the point is that we cousins have always been able to pick up from where we left off. Most of the time.

There are so many what ifs in a year's time, though. What if my oldest cousin has suddenly switched political sides? It's so unlikely, but I suppose it's possible. What my swimmer cousin has suddenly taken a twist and converted into an old-fashioned anglophile, ditching One Direction and hosting tea parties instead of lemonade stands? What if my grandparents added on a whole new porch to their house and conveniently forgot to tell us?

It's kind of like a time capsule, you see. You lock something away in a box, and no matter the temptations to unlock it again, you have to wait out the time you promised yourself to open it again, reawakening memories and reminding you of what you had forgotten. Only this time the box has another door that you can't open, that someone else has access to, and this person is changing around little things when you're watching, so you're surprised when the time comes to open it again.