I’ve thought so little of you that now you seek your revenge in the grinding of kneecaps, the tightening of hamstrings, loss of elasticity, the skin. So long neglected, you weren’t even an afterthought. I apologize each morning with a handful of pills. Oh, scarred flesh of me in the mirror, as I turn the page on another decade, I bless the stretch marks on my stomach, evidence of those dead years when food was my one friend. I bless the crow’s-feet at the corners of my eyes, proof of days spent under the sun. I bless the gray in my beard, reminder that sometimes, despite ourselves, wisdom appears. I bless our breaking down, dear body, pray the process is slow, that when time confronts us with its choices, you’ll teach me when to hold on, when to let go.