Im the kind of person who loves to be on time and hates to be late. So what would be more ironic than to have unreliable late friends and family members? My story starts with the first person to dissapoint me: my father. It mainly started with him not picking me up from school on time. Almost everyday my brother and I would be the last kids waiting for our father to arrive. We'd watch sadly and longingly as all the children, one by one, left with their parents in their stylish mini-vans. Thats another thing our ride at the time was far from stylish or even remotely decent. My father drove an old, broke down, paint peeling, Dodge Ram commercial van. I don't remember the year but it was really old and made lots of noise-enough to wake a whole town. So now not only was he late but he arrived to collect us in this embarrasing vehicle. At least the other children weren't there to see but it  didn't matter because they saw it the morning when he dropped us off at school--always late of course. "Why do we have to ride in this beat up piece of junk?' my brother and I would complain, "Why can't we get a new car?"

"Whats wrong with this one?" he'd ask.

"Its old, ugly, and the kids always laugh and make fun of us!" we'd cry.

"Well that's too bad. It may be old but it sure is getting you around. Besides do you see those other kids who make fun of you give you a ride?" He had a point.

Every now and then another student may stay long after school because their parents were late. But very rarely. For us it was rare that our father even picked us up on time. "Where's your father Haleema?" the principal would often ask. " I don't know maybe he's out of town," I'd embarrassingly reply. My dad owns his own small incense and oil company. He is a wholesaler so he has to deliver the merchandise to different stores in New York City, while we waited patiently for him at school in New Jersey. My father was and still is a workaholic I guess that's more important.

More than often my brother and I would wait at school for our father until it closed. We were then instructed to wait for him at the local library down the street. Many times my father was late even picking us up from there. He told us beforehand thats "if" he were late that we wait for him at the local mosque a block away from our school and library. I remember once waiting at the local mosque until 10.00pm! I wont even talk about all the thirst and hunger pangs I felt during all those hours of waiting. Although I was angered by all this, I was always relieved to see him when he finally did come. Relieved to know he hadn't abandoned us.

To be continued..........