Change

Change is when something is no longer what it used to be.
Change is when the caterpillar lost its mouldiness and gained its beauty as a butterfly. Change is when the ugly ducking lost its dullness and ganied its magnifence as a swan. Change happenes everywhere, in politics, in economics, in nature, and in people.
Outside in the living room, there is a picture of me, my cousin, and our dog. We were both so much younger then. I was younger, happier, and more innocent. My cousin was younger, not as pretty, and probably still had the awkward air of trying to fit in around her. And lying in front of us was out Shetland Sheepdog, Fachoi.
When my cousin was that age, my grandmother would carry on about her as though she was a saint. She compared my results with hers. While mine were appaling hers were astounding. She compared my sitting style with hers. I would bend and slouch on the chair while she kept her back straight like a ruler. This was the wonderful cousin of mine, the wonderful image she sent out to everyone: I'm a good girl, I'm smart, and everyone is proud of me.
Same cousin now, grown up, taller, prettier. She'd changed. A few alterations to her out look, longer, bright red hair, contacts, and she had a confident air around her. While I took on the glasses, had thich hair, and walked around with an arrogant air. If she was over-confident, then I was over-arrogant. I take the credit for my work, for my contributions, which always catches the eyes of the beholder. She was confident, maybe not so smart, in the world that she lived in and the world that she lived for.
I look at her around seven years ago and I look at her now. And I think, are they really the same person?
My grandmother loved my cousin. My cousin loved my grandmother. My grandmother still loves my cousin, but I don't think my cousin loves her so much now.
Gone was the gawky kid with a big brain and a big heart. Here was the confident adult with a confident smile and an air of importance. Her heart was probably still the same size, but the love is now divided into many other people. She is the girl that made my grandmother so proud, she is the woman who makes my grandmother cry.
It's like looking a caterpillar and a butterfly. The caterpillar comes to your mind as the same group as worms and centipedes and millipedes. Disgusting, moldy and insignificant. It does nothing but eat and sleep and eat and sleep. The butterfly is the direct opposite. Magnificent, beautiful, and bright. It flutters around flowers and becomes something that little children points at to their mothers. It becomes something significant, and here's where you think: How the hell did it change so fast?
It's the same with the ugly duckling and the swan. One moment, the ugly duckling was living up to its name, being an ugly grey fluffball that you laugh at, and the next thing you know the grey feathers are gone, the ugly duckling grew up; a magnificent, graceful swan with angellic wings. Or like watching the clock. You'll train your eyes on it and watch the minute hand and the hour hand, wanting to witness it moving. You'll train your eyes on it forever - and then you get distracted and look away. You look back, and all of a sudden the minute hand isn't where it was and the hour hand isn't where it was.
Does change always happen like this, when you are least suspecting it, and all at a sudden? When all of a sudden, the caterpillar stopped being a caterpillar and became a butterfly. All of a sudden, the cygnet stopped being a cygnet and became a swan.
Or maybe it didn't happen quite so suddenly. In fact it was a gradual process, happening slowly, so slowly that you didn't notice the minute details. And then something happens - you look away, and when you look back, you'll start noticing every single thing that wasn't there before. But in fact it had always been there, it just took so long, too long, for you to realise, that's all.