26. A note on growing up.

A little while ago, my mum was talking to her own mum (my grandmother, for anyone who didn’t pick that up) and her niece (also known as my cousin) through skype. They live in Sri Lanka, and we occassionally talked to them on the phone, but mum was so amazed by finding skype and being able to talk to them face to face that she now skypes them all the time. Which is great. But it’s also kind of awkward.

Because she had to see to something for a little while, my mum literally dumped the laptop on me and told me to talk to my cousin.
Now, this cousin and I used to be really close. I mean, I’m eight years younger than her, but I was the adorable little kid she used to play barbie with and take around for rides on her bike. And she was the really cool older cousin I looked up to. We spent a lot of time together, at least, until my family moved to Australia when I was seven.

Today’s conversation went something along the lines of:

Me: “Hey, how are you?”
Cousin: “I’m good, how are you?”
Me: “Good.”

*Nervous laughter*

Cousin: “So how are your studies?”
Me: “Oh, they’re going well. How about yours?”
Cousin: “They’re tiring, but yeah, going well.”

*Nervous laughter, awkward pause*

Cousin: “So… are you still into the Black Eyed Peas?”
Me: “Haha, not so much these days.”

*Another pause. I glance up to see if mum can take the laptop away yet. My cousin notices the glance.*

Cousin: “Ha, did you want to leave?”
Me: “No! Not at all.”

*More awkward laughter.*

Cousin: “So I hear you’ll be coming to visit in January?”
Me: “Yep, that’s the plan.”
Cosuin: “I suppose we’ll catch up then.”
Me: “Yeah, definitely. I’ll pass back to mum now.”
Cousin: “Sure. Bye!”
Me: Bye!

I suppose it wasn’t so bad, but it was painfully obvious that neither of us knew how to talk to each other any more. I’d never been so aware of the age difference. I suppose if I’d never moved, or if I visited more often, I’d be more comfortable talking to her, but after moving we more or less stopped all contact. Which is a damn shame. After the conversation, I flashed back to when I was six, and we’d run around playing tag. Or make forts by throwing blankets over some chairs. Or sit down and look at her impressive stamp collection. Or just sit in front of the telly and talk about whatever it was that my six year old self enjoyed talking about.

I thought about how much closer I used to be with all my relatives, most of whom I can now barely remember. About how much easier thing were when I was a kid.

The conversation managed to re affirm my conclusion that growing up, well, sucks.