When my parents were dating, so the story goes, my father won a white bear for my mom on the Revere Beach Boardwalk. It seems to have disappeared over the years, so when we celebrated their 50th Anniversary,  I found a replica to join us in the limo. It's a little eerie that, although it wasn't a bear, there was a white rabbit waiting for John in his Easter basket when he first came to LA. However, little did I know that that rabbit was a bit more on the money than I imagined.

Anyone who knows me realizes pretty quick that, not only am I a planner, but I am also never late. In fact, if I am late, then you can be sure of a few things. There's been an accident on the freeway that has delayed me, I have broken all my bones and lie in pain in a hospital room, or I have met a demise I was not ready for by any means. Growing up, lots of people would get upset that my mom and I were always punctual, or in fact, most times, very early. Having a party at 1pm? We would be there at 12:30. Have to catch a 9am flight? We'd be at the airport by 7. It was just part of our DNA, yet I didn't realize why until I took my mom on those fantastic trips to Europe.

As the years go by without her, I am so grateful that I traveled the world with her. It was on that first trip to Paris that she shared how her mother was constantly late on her visitation days. Sometimes, it would be minutes, most times, it would be hours. One day that she never forgot, she told me that her evil step-mother even relished in the tardiness.

"Your mother's not coming," she spat at her while my mom waited on the front steps. "Go out with your brother and sister."

And, so my mom would listen, only to find out that my grandmother indeed did show up later, only to be told by that same resentful woman, "Your daughter didn't want to wait for you. Go home."

Rosemarie was certain that's where her promptness originated, and she passed that down to my brother and me our entire lives. In fact, most times, we had to make ourselves late. Whether it was letting train after train pass us by so we wouldn't have to spend an extra second in South Boston visiting her step-mother, or arriving early for a holiday gathering and sitting in the car - punctuality was key. I never understood when people would get so mad at us for arriving early. Later in life, I was always early for interviews, I was always the first one in the meeting room and could always be counted on to arrive first and make sure everything was in place so everything ran smoothly. 

The day I met John, I had finished lunch, and he says he wasn't late for our drink meet-up. (I never called it a date, since that's something I didn't do.) I can't be certain if he was tardy, but for sure, I was first to arrive. When we lived in different cities, I always timed the drive to LAX so that I was at the airport for his arrival.  It was hysterical that no matter how many times I shared my flight plans, he was rushing to the San Antonio Airport to meet me.

"How long is your layover," he texted one June visit after I messaged, "landed!"

"Oh, a long time," I returned. And then after a short pause, came his response text...

"OMG, you're here. I'm not even showered and I was getting my car washed!"

It's been 2.5 years, and not much has changed time-wise. I have to admit, it's quite humorous. If we have to be somewhere at 6pm, he's stopping at a store at 5:59 to get a lottery ticket he forgot to get earlier. If we have to be at his sister's at 5, he's in the shower at 4:55 because, it's 'just down the street.' If we have an early flight, I know to not engage with him until after I park the car and he gets a breakfast taco. I drive on those flight days because I can just put him in the passenger seat and get to the airport without delay.

Some can say opposites attract, but we really aren't that different. If he mentions an old TV show, I know exactly what he's referencing. If he mentions a singer named Jane Olivor, I know who he's talking about. We come from the same experiences. We've seen the evolution of gay rights. We've been in the closet and have coming out stories that no one seems to have these days. We've watched friends leave this world due to the AIDS epidemic and experienced the fear of being different as it ravaged the community. We've seen how the world didn't care that there was a pandemic until one impacted them. We've dismissed marriage mainly because it was something that wasn't a possibility for us. I remember when George W. Bush tried to get an amendment in the constitution that would make gay marriage illegal. I was so angry that day, not because I wanted to get married, but because he was trying to take something away from me that could be a possibility. That was a slap in the face on how different I was from the rest of the population. When it comes to on time, though, John and I are for sure on opposite ends of the time clock. "I'm late, I'm late," stated the famous Lewis Carroll character. Little did I know how much those words were to be true to life.

Work starts at 7 am - he's leaving the house at 7:04 (it's just down the street). Work starts at 8, and for a twenty minute commute, I am in the car and on the road at 7:04. I like to get up and enjoy the morning, he has the curtains closed to avoid any breach by the sunlight. I have no idea how late he will be in October, but as long as he shows up, I guess that's a win. You see, Alice followed a very late white rabbit and she fell down a long hole into Wonderland. My fall may not have been as far, but I followed a Texan and wound up in San Antonio.

I sometimes ask, like Alice and most who read her adventures, is it a dream? Did it really happen? What's the meaning of everything around here? I don't think I will hear "off with his head," but I do know that I won't lose the white rabbit. It's in the living room, in a cabinet and it comes out every Easter to remind me that a Wonderland can exist, even when you're not sure you deserve it or will ever get it for yourself.