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Shit, we’re late. I gun the green light. I shouldn’t be rushing.
“Shoot, we’re late!” I call to my daughters in the backseat.
Ah, what does it matter if we’re late (again), I rationalize to myself. It’s only a swimming lesson.
“Oh no!” my older daughter, Julie, says.
“It’s going to be okay,” I reassure.
“But it’s a swimming lesson!”
“We’ll get there.”
