There was a point when I looked at my face in the mirror of a dimly lit room and saw an old man look back at me. Well, oldish. Is this really me? My dad had had me and my brother by now, and had immigrated to a completely foreign country. And bought a house. It almost looked like him, the face in the mirror, but oh, so different, our paths went, him and me. We had different sins, I guess you could say. I suppose I’ll find my way to something like he had, the wife & kids kind of deal, but the way I’ve been going to that sort of happy ending speaks of different times, different worlds. I have not yet become an old man, but the hints of it are plain. I still recall my high school Shakespeare teacher tell me carpe diem, and its lesser known sequel, memento more: seize the day, remember your end. This was that moment, looking into the glass, where the idea finally would be plain. The day is here, do your best with it, remember that you, like everyone, will die. The face in the mirror: at least I can say that I recognize myself. That’s a step in the right direction.
