Marvelous Tales #2 - Late

See below for my entry to @playfulfoodie's creative contest (https://steemit.com/marveloustales/@playfulfoodie/marvelous-tales-contest-number-2)

The prompts were two words:
Sun
Moon

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"Late"

I lost track.

The slit of light highlighting half of an old scar on my left knee reminded me like a sundial. I was late. It was 11am.

I followed it from my knee up through the dust. It did not betray much. I couldn’t see more than the tires of parked cars through the basement apartment’s single half-window.

At least there was light this year. Last year, my room was dark. Windowless. I bought lights to ward off seasonal depression, but they did not replace the sun. Winters in Montreal were long.

The florescent lights above my desk used to shine like half moons. I let them lie to me. I let the harsh blue light hit my face, closed my eyes, and imagined the smell of the ocean.

But by the next year, I had upgraded. Hadn’t I? I had this slit of light.

I got up slowly. I was stiff. I had lost track of the time again. I had slept in, battling my alarm.

I was late. I forgot what I was late for, but the feeling was there. For sure, I was late.

I contemplated if it was depression. What did you call the feeling of always being late?

What did you call my pitiful gratitude for slices of sun replacing half moons?

I called it progress. Today, I was out of the room before writing it down. It had become a routine:

“I am grateful for my health.”
“I am grateful for the people who love me.”
“I am grateful for the privilege of being alive.”
“I am grateful for the shreds of light that draw me out of bed.”
"I am grateful, I am grateful, I am grateful..."

By the time I got into the kitchen, I was grateful for eggs and having bread to soak the yolks with. I was grateful that I had forgotten what I was late for.

I was just here. The time was now. I reminded myself it was and is and will always be now. Could I be grateful just to be, for now?

Maybe it was time to stop the endless treading of emotional water. I can do it, I mused as I tipped the sunny-side up yolk over dry brown toast.

As I watched the toast slowly take in the yellow, I noticed something strange.

For a second, I feel on time.