I blinked, and it’s June, and I am not sure I know how to write these essays anymore. This space feels different, and so do I. For starters, I am wearing prescription eyeglasses as I type; the doctor’s recommendation to use them “when needed” has quickly turned into a daily necessity. I tried to keep my reactions to those of amusement, and not dwell on the irony of the situation: May, my birthday month, came prepared with a few presents including impaired eyesight and a fresh new wave of gray hair.