Perfect Timing

When I was little, I was psychic and it was effortless.

One day, my father and I went to Coney Island while my mother and sister went shopping. (I must have been really young because I haven't turned down a shopping expedition in a long time!) I'm pretty sure my brothers were with us too but I can't remember for sure. I do remember, however, that out of nowhere I suddenly told my dad that we needed to leave immediately. I wasn't panicked; we simply needed to go meet my mom and sister.

We went back to the subway, hopped on the next train (after witnessing a homeless man getting mugged) and, after switching trains again, made our way up to Bloomingdale's. Sure enough, the minute our train -- just one of hundreds -- pulled up to the 59th Street station, we spotted my mom and sis as they, too, arrived on the platform. "There they are," I told my dad. I wasn't even the slightest bit fazed. He was incredulous.

There's no way of telling what may have happened had we not met them. Maybe nothing. It was just clear to me, for whatever reason, that we needed to get there so we could all be together.