I'm sixty-two years old. When I was five, I would have typed "I am sixty-two and a half years old" because halves were very important then; sometimes they were how you distinguished yourselves from the babies. And never mind that at five I had no idea how to spell much less type-another point lost along the way.
I'm married to a person for the last thirty-seven years I cannot imagine ever knowing in any other circumstance than in the one in which we met and as I may have shared once or more in this space already, I have a very active imagination.
I still see myself as one of the Young Turks, despite the lines and scars on the face my bathroom mirror offers me every morning. You are probably correct to suspect my grip on reality is some days more tenuous than others.
My wife and I have two adult children-I confess the Young Turk in me is always surprised to realize that as he wasn't a big fan of children when he, himself, was one but after being my wife's husband, being my children's father is the most important job I will ever have. I just wish I were better at both.
We live in a small city in southeastern Connecticut that, prior to my arrival in this part of New England about this time of year twenty-three years ago (actually my wife and children arrived here exactly twenty-three years ago Friday last. She remembered; I failed to do so. Again.), I had never heard of.
I didn't plan on staying here which probably makes some of the people with whom I share the city sad (that I didn't follow through) and I'd be lying if I didn't confess to still hoping to go elsewhere even if I don't know where or when. I've learned the "Why?" question is often the least important.
This isn't a lesson from Lennon, though it could be and if I were capable of deep thoughts, perhaps it would/should be. Thank goodness being deep in thought in my case comes barely to your ankles. Except, I don't think I'm alone. Yes, it's quite possible perhaps in the ship of my life that's more than true, but it's a big ocean and we're all charting our own courses.
Sometimes you can't feel the change in yourself, you can only see the change when you look at others. Enjoy the view.