There is a man in front of me

He is old

His shoulders seem pinched and somewhat stooped

His hair, where it exists, is sparse

Where it is not, the landscape is mottled, a lifetime in the sun

The face is highly exhausted, his laugh lines are deep furrows locked in time

A slight paunch, but not bad for a man who values eating so highly

His choice for the morning is hot coffee and a sunny dawn

He strives to get his goals done for the day by lunch before he tires

An afternoon nap is on the agenda every day

His music and his garden are his soul foods

His wife is his best friend, she and he from the beginning of time

At night, he rests his bones, she comforts him and keeps him warm

They say memories occur when emotion is attached to an event

He is thankful for all those who provided emotion in his life

On the porch or in the garden, he relives those moments as if in a movie

His family is comforting and a blessing, but they need him less and less as it should be

Any thoughts of past importance are mostly in his head

Today is his birthday

As I back away from the mirror, I must remember that he is me

Well, come on old man. We still have some living to do…