AS A MAN REACHES his middle ages, he may grieve for the life that never was and is now past; or be struck, in amazement, by the lasting wonder that life has produced.
When young, everything seems possible given time and effort, unquestionably. Horizons feel boundless in every direction.
Yet, unavoidably, as opportunities of time and place drive choices made in the face of recognized alternatives, over time, one’s substance as a being takes on its form, in the way a tree forms branches that can’t be re-done.
Thwarticus 