I seemed to have stopped aging between my 45th and 50th year. Let's call it 45 for discussion purposes.
30 years later, I am still shocked looking in the mirror. Who the hell is it looking back at me? Certainly not the person I envision myself in day to day activities.
If there were never a mirror in my view I would be younger.
Which begs the question, how old am I? Do I believe the calendar or the daily evidence of my pace, feelings, and accomplishments?
Sure, there's the occasional creaks and groans and what was that person's name I just met 5 seconds ago?
Like a vintage piece of stereo gear that continues to delight the senses and bring musical magic into the room, it all works if you close your eyes.
How old are you?
