Mastering time

I've always had a love-hate relationship with time. Born among the chronically running-late, I've always fought against the 60 seconds in each minute and the 60 minutes in each hour, wishing I could expand them, willing time to become malleable, like silly putty.

But time is its own master and doesn't answer to cajoling or even outright coercion. Thus, I have been largely unsuccessful in my fight against time. That is, until recently.

For the past few weeks, I've noticed that I've been transformed from a chronically running-late person into a chronically I'm-early one. And I'm not quite sure that this is such a good thing.

It's absolutely true that it's generally kinder and more thoughtful toward the people who would've had to wait for my past incarnation. While I never approached the ranks of the-world-must-revolve-around-me late, I still always ran behind schedule by 10 or so minutes. What I liked to call "fashionably late."

Interesting to me is that fact that I have never been late to start or end my classes. I am almost preternaturally punctual when it comes to my professional commitments. Because I resented professors who kept me well beyond the time of class, oblivious to the fact that my own time was as valuable as theirs, I don't keep my students after class is scheduled to end. Also, I generally start right at the hour or maybe even a minute or so before, just to keep my students on their toes.

But when it came to meeting friends or being ready to go with my husband somewhere, I was always running behind the appointed time, much to the frustration of my expectedly punctual gringo husband.

Lately, however, I've been transformed. Invited to dinner at a friend's house, I arrived 2 minutes early to find that she wasn't ready for me and would've appreciated the 10-minute delay I was on before I was inadvertently transmuted into a socially punctual person.

Invited to meet a colleague for breakfast, I arrived 5 minutes early only to wait for another 10 minutes before she was able to arrive, after being delayed by her busy schedule.

Invited to meet two other colleagues for lunch, I arrived to the appointed venue 3 minutes ahead of schedule only to see them walking to another, nearby eating place. By the time I gathered all my things and ran behind them, I was a few minutes late in their book!

What I've realized, however, is that by being chronically early, I'm becoming the cause of everybody else's embarrassment. Back when I was late, I was the only one embarrassed and the other person was, at worst, a little annoyed with me.

I'm not sure I like the way this chronically I'm-early thing has balanced out. I don't feel good at all about being so early that I lead others to feel guilty and self-conscious and apologetic.

Perhaps, now that I've mastered the art of being early, I can finally master the poetry of being on time. Not a few minutes before, nor a few minutes after. Just right on the dot, right on the spot, right on the clock.

Perhaps then the universe will be finally balanced and both I and the person who awaits me will be at ease.