Zen Master

The kids woke up late this morning. They were tired. I was tired. We all wanted to stay in bed but couldn’t; I have class today. I care about getting my kids to school on time, but my motive to move on class days is driven by parking on campus: the earlier the better. I sucked down coffee, made lunches, and lit the proper amount of fires under the proper amount of rears to get in the car on time. It worked! The stop lights glowed green, and we pulled into the grade-school’s parking lot with plenty of time to spare. The kids were smiling and singing along with the radio and I was picturing the empty parking lot at the university until I heard panic in my daughters voice. Little-Woman had forgotten her backpack and her lunchbox; she was close to tears, and as I opened her door I heard myself promise to return home for her belongings. I drove back -- back past the gas station, back past the liquor store -- stopping at every light: all red. I fished out my iPod -- kissed the excellent parking goodbye -- and reminded myself that it was okay to get thrown off course every now and then. A tiny joggle in the day's routine just makes you appreciate the smooth days more. I was calm; in fact I was congratulating myself on my equanimity when my gas light came on and I thought, well goddamned, sonuvabitchin' world with its cockstinkin' constant dynamics and hell-shit!