I caught sight of my arm in the mirror today, and I saw it.
The advancement of age, the fleeting escapism of youth.
I was in our bathroom, getting dressed after my shower, and as I raised my right arm to allow for my deodorant application, I noticed that the muscle definition that I thought I still had, especially near the region of my elbow, had receded. Much like a hairline that you take for granted will always be there, until the day that you discover it is not.
I noticed my obnoxiously skinny arm and my now vulnerable elbow, which stuck out like a crucible perched on the edge of my sagging body. So this is what it’s like to be fifty-two.
The body that I once had, that so many young and old men alike had admired years ago is fading away, like a once stunning artistic painting that for too long has hung in the living room and battled the effects of sunlight against its graying canvas. For a long time, I didn’t feel anything like my age. I worked out, set goals, chased dreams, and raised children. As my childcare duties are becoming less demanding, and I now have the time to discover this world and pursue any leftover lofty goals, I find that they are not so demanding of my attention as I once thought that they were.
All of my scheming and best laid plans now lay on the ground before my feet, and leave me to wonder if I will even have the energy or time to fulfill them.