I spotted it this morning—just one strand. A single gray hair in my eyebrow. At first, I laughed. Then I stared. Then I felt. That tiny thread stopped me in my tracks—not because it made me feel old, but because it whispered something deeper. It was a messenger. A signal. A symbol of time’s quiet but certain hand. My first reaction? “I’m getting older.” Followed by a second, quieter voice: “I’m closer to the end than the beginning.” That thought lingered longer than I expecte