Tomorrow will be my 14,245th day, the first day of my 40th year.

I have been around for 14,244 days. I was born on a Monday in a leap year but after the leap.

I recall, vividly, about 100 of those days. Not all of the time of all of those days. Maybe a few instants of those days.

I don’t know what I recall. Days in the Volkswagen convertible with Mom spent driving nowhere and everywhere. An evening at the dinner table learning to write numbers with Dad. Pets.

Idle hours spent assembling LEGO structures, then disassembling, then reassembling. Air travel. Exploring new places, a new home, far from the concept of home I had been born with.

Playing doctor with a friend and a couple girls. Chaste kisses. Running around trailer parks and jumping ditches with my bike.

Rain. Lots of rain. Inner tubes on a small lake in the rain. Canoeing in the rain. Building earthen dams in the rain. Watching my innocence, my youth, wash away like so many grains of diseffected sand. Pebbles in the water.

Aged.