Not old yet, but not young any more either. Midway somewhere. The body past its best, starting to creak and fail. Remember when it was at its fullest, though you didn’t know it then. The first day you bled, the day they buried Ma. And now maybe the bleeding is over. Last period was three months ago, might be no more. You’re drying slowly in your channels, running out of sap. You’re a branch that’s losing its leaves and one day you’ll break off.
