I got lucky. I won the lottery. Some people don't ever figure it out, but at thirty-one, I think I finally have it. Yo la tengo.

Thirty-one years of wrestling with the pieces, putting square pegs in round holes, forcing jigsawed curves into jigsawed waves, banging my palms on the table hoping to hear the "Snap!" sound of a perfect fit. Once I had it — my perfection — I could finally relax.

Only perfection wasn't attainable. I had to realize that this is as good as it's ever gonna get, right here at this moment in time. My cousin once sent me a card that says, "Keep your face to the sunshine and you will never see the shadows". Perhaps I looked down just to torment myself. The shadows came and went; some stayed longer than others. Some stayed long enough to leave a permanent impression on the pavement. Those are my wounds from battles past.

One morning at year thirty-one, I wake up and get out of bed, and all is right with my world. Can't explain it entirely, it's just that the pieces started to fit. What I'm doing became less of pointless striving and more of doing for the sake of enjoyment. I could raise my face to the sunshine for hours; my neck would not tire of it. I could find joy in the menial task of putting the pieces together. I could discover that this journey is less struggle and more effortless glide.

The flip of a switch, and I'm there. Thirty one down. A lifetime to catch up on what I've missed.