The strangest of moods keeps overtaking me. I struggle to get words around it; some midlife change. Some embarrassment of time. It's all very boring, but aging comes as a personal revelation of sorts, one that defies easy expression. One that I long suspected would arrive and that I would somehow be prepared for, perhaps having accrued so much wisdom. Reading is not synonymous with living. Its descriptions meant to convey are far less mundane. Midlife is no less surprising than youth. It manages to arrive unexpectedly. I spent my youth waiting for something to happen.