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Halfway in to my first year of being forty.  My knee and shoulder have developed a random ache.  A portion of my vision in my left eye is obscured by a dark dot that skitters around like a bug on the water.  My upper back gets a kink in it unless I set my pillow carefully before I go to sleep.  When I push on my skin, I can see what it will look like when I'm ninety.  I have an age spot; no, wait, I have two age spots.  Wispy hairs circle my face and stick up from my part.  My joints have always been knobby, though.  I still sit on the floor.  I still sleep too long.  I still do stupid things, but not quite as often.  I recognize wisdom, even if I don't always have it.