Reach for the top?

You grow while you sleep.

This saying actually has some truth to it.  So no, it’s not the idea I used to believe.  What I did believe was that I would one day grow taller than my mother.

My brother is taller than my father.  My sister is taller than my mother.  As the youngest, I naturally concluded that I too would eventually be taller than my mother*.  Suffice it to say I was mistaken.

I have always been rather short.  My proudest accomplishment at six was being the second shortest kid in my class, rather than the shortest kid.  In short, I never expected to be tall and I never felt short-changed because of my height.  Punning aside, there are quite a few advantages to it.  I can fit into small spaces.  I never bump my head on things, and when I fall it hurts less on account of the smaller distance.  It is extremely unlikely that I’ll ever date someone shorter than me, or even someone shorter than me while I’m wearing heels.

This cat is reaching for the sky.

I wasn’t reaching for the sky, just the tree next to me.  All I wanted was to be taller than my mother.  I didn’t have far to go; my mother is only 5’3’’.

Alas, I was destined to stop at 5’2.5’’.  I was, and am, the shortest in my family.  I can’t remember any sort of personal crisis arising from this experience, only a vague sense of disappointment.  It’s not like I made an extra effort to grow by drinking milk or whatever other methods the kids use these days.   I just…thought it was the natural order of things.  And it turned out it wasn’t.  As they say, that was that.  I’m not tall, and at this point I never will be.  And there ain’t nothin’ I can do ‘bout it.

*This belief brought up the slight dilemma that if people were continually growing taller than their parents, how has the human race not reached gargantuan heights yet?  I tended to brush this off as something I would, someday, understand.

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