Twenty minutes. That’s the exact time from clipping in to standing in line, 5.6 miles, endless car traffic, and a nearly-empty bike lane later.
I do love Mr. White. He’s a beautiful human being in every way, shape and form. He knows how to make a presentation, with few words and lots of pictures on a PowerPoint, and he genuinely cares about our kids.
But this is my third back-to-school night, I had to leave my three girls in a mess of emotions and mess of a kitchen as my oldest cried and begged again for Snapchat because all her friends are planning Homecoming on a thread without her and because my youngest wants to sell cookies on the corner to earn money for her school Yellowstone trip.
I was reminded, as I pedaled across my city, answering two phone calls (WTF??–one from the school district, one from an insurance salesman) on the way through my Bluetooth headphones, after checking my email and seeing Riona’s latest missing homework, after arguing with Mythili about leaving Izzy alone about the quality of character of her latest crush (whom a colleague warned me about today), that it’s only. Tuesday.
But. It was a pedal, not a drive. There was no traffic. There was no string of red lights. There were only a mostly-empty path and the brutality of my frustrated shouts of, “On your left!!” Mythili set up my saddlebags for me before I left. Riona managed not to burn the cookies. I sent Isabella the snapshot text of what Riona’s missing, leaving her in charge. And I have given in to Snapchat for my in-the-closet-crying daughter, if only for a week.
And in twenty minutes, my filled-to-the-brim-with-ice water bottle melted into lukewarm, late-summer water. In twenty minutes, Pandora pounded out my angst. In twenty minutes, I made it to back-to-school-night number three.
In twenty minutes, I wrote this post.
And it’s only Tuesday. Let’s see what I can make of twenty minutes tomorrow.