As I sit and wait for my father to finally show up, I spot a male robin perching on my neighbor's mailbox. I can tell the bird is male because he's colorful, and females have more neutral-colored feathers to protect it from predators when she's nesting.

Anyway, I don't think my dad has ever been on time to anything in his entire life. He was probably late to his wedding. I guess I should expect it by now, but I like to believe in the impossible, so I still start waiting on time. When I was younger, I thought he did it on purpose, but I've realized this is not the case. He just gets so caught up in what he's doing, he forgets stuff. I'm like that sometimes. But not all the time. Maybe he hasn't always been like this; I'm not sure. But when my parents divorced, I can remember him picking me up late whenever it was his turn, coming home from work way later than he should have, buying a birthday gift on the way to the party.

My mom- you guessed it- is the exact opposite. She's forever on time, and usually early to top it off. Dad drives her crazy, showing up hours late at times. He's a slob; she's a neat freak. She has twenty charities going on at once; his only volunteer work was not voluntary. He works in a secluded office, writing editorial columns; she's a people person who works at a children's nursery. I absolutely love the irony that two completely different people could ever date, let alone marry.