Do you remember me?

A friend is part of an FB experiment about the first memory you have of people in your life. I was about to sprout my usual wisdom about people changing, the whole mothball process of holding on to memories and so on. Then it struck me, just as people changed, so did I.
I remembered my friend - in the car with everybody, unsure and facing flak - and me, half-scared and trying to avert confrontations. She is very sure of everything now. I am no longer scared to voice a difference of opinion. Mostly.
The kid in sixth grade that was pointed out as one not to ever befriend even if it meant having to sit with that Mathur boy. She taught me to look emotions in the eye. I no longer let other people pick my friends for me. And I haven't sat with a Mathur boy since.
The nagging kid with the cattiest deskmate who'd bully me into walking home with her. She was the world's favourite chatterbox. It became my mission in life to avoid her clutches or at least make her talk in a way I understood. The chatter has been replaced with conversation. But the bullying hasn't. I no longer try to make people think the way I do. And some days, I even do the 1-800-HAPPINESS act to perfection.
The coconutty-smelling, seemingly slimy Slim Jim that I specifically asked R not to bring over to my house, as he was a worm in the making and would not understand half of what we're about. Little did I know that house would see several mornings of him waking up after EVERONE else. Sometimes not waking too. Not only understanding, but unstinted support (though sometimes at gun point) is ours for asking. He doesn't smell of coconut any more (I hope) and I no longer think you stop making friends for life as an adult. I no longer hesitate to throw my dreams at friends.
The booming voice and severe hostility-inducing demeanour I was determined to tolerate for friendship's sake. The voice hasn't changed much, though the accent did at times as did my definition of people who count.
The rebel without a pause whose romantic chances with budding chemists provided as much thought for food as her bucking-the-trend ideas. She possibly does not go staking all on people any more (marriage and research does make people turn a bit odd :P). I no longer think it's possible to calculate love - you give it all and then some more. Of course, I peep in through virtual windows too to see how she is.
The funny boy with bushy eyebrows everyone loved to tease. Respectable married gent he has morphed into and then goes about growling at little scribelings who beg me not to make them speak on the phone with him. I don't go about judging people's eyebrows (I have seen enough of weirder ones in recent years) and I am no longer surprised at how people meander in and out and in through life.
And many, many, many more.