I can rest knowing i’m never late, my timing is divinely guided.

Being behind is measured against a schedule nobody has ever seen written down.

It comes from other people's announcements, which are edited, and from an idea of a normal life that no actual life has ever matched.

Meanwhile the delays tend to have been doing something. Skills picked up in a job that felt like a detour. A tolerance for uncertainty that only comes from having sat in some.

It does not make waiting pleasant, and nobody is obliged to call it a gift. But the version of you who arrives later usually arrives carrying more than the one who would have arrived on time.