Lately, when I catch my reflection in a window, I see a man I don’t recognize. One I don’t like to imagine is the man others see when they look at me.
Partly, this is a function of age. Time. Mortality. My mind is convinced I’m 40. My body increasingly betrays that I’m off by more than a decade.
I’m continually surprised, and saddened, that I’m not – at least for the time being – one of those men. For a few years there, I most definitely was. But those years ended. A few years ago.
Fingers crossed that the next twelve months will see my return to Zaddyhood.