Time feels like watching paint dry. Christmas always feels forever away, and my birthday isn’t much better. Then, in an instant, you look backward to discover how much has escaped you. It feels like a small puddle falling victim to the sun on a hot summer day. My youth is stolen from me, and I found myself thrust into adulthood with little regard to my desire to slow everything down.  

With a mountain of responsibility resting on my exhausted shoulders, I find myself staring intently into the bathroom mirror. At the edges of eyes, written across my forehead, and drawn drastically between my cheeks and mouth, wrinkles are beginning to form. They give away my age before I ever utter a word. Staring a little longer, there are days when my face feels like the clay of the desert floor being baked by the harshest of the sun’s rays. Cracks are spreading in every direction.  

Silent strands of gray hair are making themselves known like an uninvited guest at a party I had no intention of hosting. Without permission, they are sneaking into a forest of brown and pretending I do not notice. At the right angle, I find them hiding in plain sight. Still, I must count myself lucky in this regard. I still have hair.  

Rising each morning, my body hurts in new and fascinating places. My back no longer belongs to Atlas. Prone to fits of spasm, it serves as a constant reminder of the time slipping through my fingers. Heading north or south and stretching in all directions from my lower back, you will find a hundred destinations revealing my mortality.  

As I drew closer to my 40th birthday, I found myself only partly in a celebratory mood. Mostly, I kept tossing the same idea back and forth. I am closer to 80 than the day I was born.  

Friends are beginning to fall ill. A few unlucky ones have passed away. Each serve as a thundering reminder that my days are numbered. If I am lucky, I can double what I have managed thus far. In the grand scheme of things, this still does not seem like enough time. If I am honest, the end absolutely terrifies me.
Time is being stolen from me, and I am helpless to stop it.  

Be good to each other,  

Nathan