Today is cloudy. It will be in the low 50’s. I’ll take it despite the wind. I didn’t list any chores or errands for today. As always, there are things I could do and places I could go, but I’ll just wing it.

When I woke up, I didn’t open my eyes right away. I could feel breathing on my face and a paw was pushing at me. I begrudgingly opened my eyes, Nala’s eyes were just inches away from mine. When she realized I was awake, she began jumping on the bed. Henry just stood and watched. I got up.

I try to carry boxes and bags, like I once did. I even used to carry a fifty pound bag of litter from the car to the house. Now I struggle with packages. I can’t seem to convince my head that my body is old, okay, older, a better word, so I keep trying. When I take a filled litter box down the stairs, I go a stair at a time. I stand backwards to the box and hope for the best. I brought a heavy box down today. The box and I made it safely. I added the box to the growing pile of boxes on the deck. They are my targets for later in the week. I just need to get my dump pass.

My father always brought the trash barrels to the sidewalk on trash day. He’d bring in the empty barrels when he got home. When we moved to the cape, my father had to go to the dump with his trash. He never minded. He loved the dump. He loved the high piles of trash and the raucous seagulls circling the piles. He’d go on Sunday. He always invited me. Sometimes I went. When I was in college and a friend came home with me for the weekend, my friend was invited to go with my father. It was almost a command performance.

I’m in the mood for chocolate, maybe I’ll make some brownies.

The morning is the same as the last few mornings, but we are slowly inching to warmer weather. The high today will be 49°. Tonight will be in the low 40’s, finally out of the 30’s at least for one night. The dogs are my barometers. They have been staying outside longer since the days got warmer.

Sunday has always been the quiet day. When I was a kid, we went to church. We always wore our church clothes which meant I wore a dress or a skirt and blouse, never pants. I wore good shoes. I even wore a hat. My father was an usher at an early mass. He always brought home the paper and some donuts. His donuts choices left something to be desired. He bought plain, jelly and lemon. His favorite was a plain donut slathered with butter. We hung around the house until after Sunday dinner. I’d read the Sunday comics. The news didn’t interest me. We’d watch a movie.

Sunday dinner was special. We had a roast, sometimes chicken and sometimes beef. My mother used to put onion slices on the top of the beef. They got crispy and were delicious. I always tried to steal one. Sometimes I did before my mother could catch me. The chicken was usually stuffed. I loved my mother’s stuffing. It was sage. Mashed potatoes and gravy were a given. The vegetables varied. They were all canned back then. I still laugh at my father and his asparagus. My mother bought a small can and served them on a plate just for my father. None of us ate it. He’d pick one spear up with his fork and the asparagus was always limp.

I’ve mentioned before how on Sunday afternoons we often went to my grandparents’ house in East Boston. The kitchen is where my mother, my grandmother and my aunts sat around the table all afternoon. My grandmother always made pasta. It stayed on the stove and was help yourself. The grater and the Parmesan cheese were on the table. That was the first time I grated cheese. My mother used to buy the already grated Parmesan cheese in the jar.

On the way home in the late afternoon, I sometimes fell asleep. The trip wasn’t long, but the car on the road lulled me to sleep. At home, we had a few hours before my mother announced, “Time for bed, school tomorrow.”