42 years old.*
I’ve never felt so old.
And I might as well get older, yet I’m not getting any older today than I was at 36. But aging is visible on the outside as well as on the inside.
In 42 years I have never felt so serene, in my place, clear-sighted.
Never, perhaps, so calmly happy. None of these joys of youth, bright, fiery, and fleeting.
42 years old, aging and happy,
Completely devoid of context.
This decorrelation allows the durability, the depth of this happiness.
*46 today…no change.
Notes & Silence 