How old am I?

Last year I didn’t even note the date. At least, not on the anniversary. Three years ago, it was a big deal. A lot has happened in three years. A lot has happened in eight years.

Hell, a lot has happened in forty-eight years.

For what it’s worth, according to some sort of tradition, today I turn eight. I guess. Or I’m two months from turning two. Or I’m three months from turning forty-nine. You take your pick. I think, for me, it’s just become a numbers game at this point.

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