I celebrated my birthday this weekend. I have spent half a century on this planet and just now I realized I am no longer young but getting old. These hands are no longer firm but wrinkled, my hair no longer black but peppered with grey, and my eyes need the glasses I refuse to wear out of vanity.
It is a fact – and something I just have to accept.
As Francis Bacon once said: ‘Age appears to be best in four things; old wood best to burn, old wine to drink, old friends to trust, and old authors to read.’
I did not get it before, but I do today.