I am aging in measurable and accelerated ways. I have more lines and rivulets on my face and décolletage; more brown spots almost everywhere; and thinner, grayer hair. Even with glasses I no longer see well.
My spirit has gone gray, too. When I was younger, I believed it was my responsibility, if not my destiny, to endure burden and suffering wherever I might find it, and, to that end, I invited all manner of person and experience into my life. Nothing has aged me more profoundly, though, than the betrayals I have experienced over my years. Had I known from the very start that they would accrete and eventually hobble, perhaps I would have been more careful about the people I allowed to walk through my front door.