A former coworker said that his trigger was the moment that he finished dropping his youngest at daycare and the oldest at preschool. It was as if he was propelled toward back to where we used to be.

Initially, I said I had none. I am not a morning person and the blare of my alarm isn’t a great reminder of where I need to be. But today I had a doctor’s appointment and raced to the BART station by 8:30 am.

Descending the stairs, I had a weird feeling. I read people’s faces—they all knew they were going somewhere. Somewhere that would trap them from the glowing hot sun. Somewhere where it was sterile for at least 8 hours. A cubical environment. They were going.

But instead, I can lie back and wait until the sun fully shines through my East-facing windows and then wait until the sunbeams decide to fly somewhere else.