This happened many months ago, and yesterday.

I left either too early or too late. Either way, I was tense. My cotton shirt was soaked through by the first stop light. At 15 minutes till, my shirt still moist but my face radiating from a sweat facial, I thought I could make it. I bopped to my music and coasted along. All was ok for 2 minutes.



At 13 minutes till, my confidence melted as I willed my phone to dial itself, speak, and inform all parties that I would be 25 minutes late. I held back, as 1 minute later, at 12 till, I was going to be early. Fear of awkward standing around, waiting, setting off another round of nervous sweating.

By 10 minutes till, fear and crazy thoughts completely took over. I oscillated from fear of being late to fear of being early so quickly that I considered driving myself to the closest psych ward. I would not pass go, I would wear only white, I would never be late or early again.

All forgotten at 8 minutes. A pretty bend in the road, a shimmering of early spring leaves, I forgot my paranoia as the charm of a low key Saturday morning took over.

5 minutes till, stuck at a light, my anxiety rose in my throat. I was so close, and so far. My fingers fiddled with my phone. I reached to turn off the radio, to warn all that I will be embarrassingly late, but this song needed to be heard.

The light turns green. I arrive. I am late; I am early. I am ok.