I suppose everyone gets to a point in their life when they realize with uncomfortable surprise that - this is their Life. This life is what they've created, or perhaps destroyed. It's made up of opportunities taken or ducked, bodies touched or shied from, things spoken or left unsaid.

At this juncture, I feel like I've suddenly awoken. Time, a lot of time, has passed. It's not unlike waking from a self-induced coma and struggling to simultaneously live and mourn the unlived, unrecoverable time.

What now? What's left? What hasn't been begun? What is irretrievable? What is still possible?

While I lumber through the world heavily, Joe the puppy rips it up in his milk teeth, wild-eyed with relish.