You wake up one day and know that you’ve gotten old. It’s a feeling from deep in the bones, the certainty that the years have taken their toll, that you can’t outrun Father Time. The face in the mirror is now explored in minute detail each morning as you search the corpus not quite delecti for clues. Some would have us rage against the dying of the light. For me, it’s a relief to accept the verdict of time. I am free to be who I am, not who I think I used to be. Everything old is new again.