"Johnny! I'm late hurry up!"
She screeched from inside the warm drivers seat of her little blue car.
I sat down in the passengers side and buckled up as she speeded off the driveway.
Late. She was always late no matter how hard she tried.
She was late to our first date in Starbucks, where I found out her favourite cake was carrot cake.
She was late to our second date, where I found out touching her neck ever so lightly, made her blush furiously.
She was late to our 2 year anniversairy dinner, where I found out her dog passed away just a day before.
She was late to our couples doctors appointment where I found out she couldnt have children.
She was late to couples counselling the following week where I found out she has depression from being unable to carry a baby.
In the months that followed, she became more and more depressed, along with the weather, turning dreary and dark.
I woke up, on a day in November to thick frost outside and Chloe looking at me from the bathroom clutching a white box.. "I'm late..." she timidly told me.
Our first child, Winter was born 2 weeks late, on August 28th.
Our second child, Daisy was born 4 days late on January 8th.
Our third child Toby was born 9 days late on March 12th.
Being a little late never hurt anybody.