March 31

My eyes fly open and hit the day like headlights on a dear, the first flicker of the oncoming collision. As my head twists toward the digital alarm clock, the traitor, its sneering face gleefully winks 6:54. Morning Prayer starts at 7:00. I fall up out of bed and trip on yesterday’s shirt. It is black with an orange and white logo. Black hides stains. Yesterday’s shirt just become today’s. The button-down is suitably matched by yesterday’s jeans. I only have to make it through morning prayer after all, where everyone’s hair is still shower wet and everyone’s eyes can barely be seen peeking out of the bags that carry them. I trundle into my study for my brown boots and the wall clock’s long arm ends in what looks like a middle finger somewhere closer to twelve than eleven. My computer reassures me that it’s only 6:56. My watch pronounces an angry 6:59. I run through the dark house back to my bedroom. Grab keys. Grab phone. The stupid little piece of technology idiotically grins 6:58. I certainly don’t have time for a coat. I run outside and slam headfirst into the new day and six inches of spring snow.