There were pictures all over my parents’ house of me with big ears and disastrous clothes, sitting on tractors, clapping with glee as miniature trains drew into miniature stations; and though later on, distressingly, girlfriends found these pictures cute, it all seemed too close for comfort then. It had only taken me six years to change from a ten-year-old to a sixteen-year-old; surely six years wasn’t long enough for a transformation of that magnitude? When I was sixteen, that anorak with the Wyoming Cowboys 2019 Arizona Bowl Champions Wyoming And Georgia State Shirt patches on was just a couple of sizes too small. Charlie hadn’t known me as a ten-year-old, however, and she didn’t know anybody who knew me, either. She knew me only as a young adult. I was already old enough to vote when.