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I spend most of my waking hours sharing a room with two twenty-something men. One is single, the other newly married. They are young enough, and I am old enough, that they could be my sons. I don’t think of them that way, but I find that I want to nurture them…no, that’s not exactly right…I want to disabuse...

Fifteen years ago, I was a new and shiny college graduate—at 33. Nine years ago I was a new bride—at 39. Seven years ago, I was still a young woman with a new baby—at 41. I used to laugh about my late blooming, but now it’s become premature aging and the bloom is off the rose. I'm officially menopausal...

The gifts of maturity are many. Having lived a generous number of years means I can look back and say “I lived through that, I can live through this.” I’ve learned to be easier on myself, though I’m sometimes ashamed of how hard I am on others. The alternatives to aging aren’t attractive anyhow, and...