Pressing Over 60: The First Dispatch From the Far Side of the Door

I was fifty-five when I started this site, already half a decade past the threshold on the sign. Over 50 names a doorway. You walk through it once, on one particular birthday, and you remain on this side of it for the rest of your life. A sixty-one-year-old lives inside Over 50. So does a ninety-year-old. The category holds every one of us who crossed, which is why the sign can stay bolted to the wall while the man who bolted it there keeps aging underneath it. If I repainted the sign every time I earned a new decade, the site would become a diary, and you did not come here to watch a man count.