When I’m in my university office, surrounded by books from my youth, it’s easy to feel like a kid -- until I’m outside surrounded by freshmen. They will run or zoom past, maybe on a scooter or skateboard, while I’ll be limping. Then the facts assert themselves one more time.
Off campus, when the light is just sideways enough, I will suddenly be amazed at the backs of my hands. Old-man’s wrinkly skin, age spots, odd little bumps. Hard to draw the wrong conclusion from that.