I Missed My Exit Because I Was Arguing With Myself

Dear Delyara, I was driving home from work, replaying a conversation from yesterday, then a budget from this morning, then a doctor’s comment from last month, then my daughter’s face when I told her no about something small but important to her. By the time I looked up, I had driven right past my exit. I had to add eight extra minutes to the drive. Eight minutes I didn’t have. Eight minutes that made dinner late. Eight minutes that meant I walked into the house already apologizing. But what upset me wasn’t the delay. It was how much of my life I seem to be living somewhere other than where my body is. I am in the car. My mind is everywhere else. I am at dinner. My mind is tomorrow. I am in bed. My mind is ten years ago and next week at the same time. I want my life back in the same room as me.