The early morning was sunny. Now the sun is behind the clouds. They are suspicious clouds, the sort which hides surprises. It is cold, 39°, the high for the day. I’m warm. I’ve already had my first cup of coffee. I read the newspaper. It is an ordinary winter’s day. This morning I checked my mailbox for the first time since last Monday. When I opened it, I had the best surprise. A soft package was stuffed in at the front. It took me a while of tugging and pulling to free it and the pile of mail behind it, including a small box in the way back. As soon as I got inside, I opened the package. My sister and brother-in-law had sent me a Cape Cod Ukulele Club shirt. I was thrilled. Their thoughtfulness gave me the biggest boost, gave me joy. Serendipity! Also, in the mail was my coffee. This month’s coffee, a medium roast, is from Peru, from the San Ignacio region, a mountainous region. I’m excited to try it.

When I was a kid, I drank cocoa every morning. I remember the top of the cocoa in the cup had small bubbles from my mother stirring it into the hot milk. The cocoa was thick and silky, at least that’s how my tongue remembers it. I always yummed after the first sip. I remember the cocoa container had a slot on the top. The slot was for coins. The container became a bank after the cocoa was finished. I remember my money always smelled like cocoa.

I love the taste of cinnamon. When I was a kid, I’d sometimes sprinkle cinnamon sugar on my cereal. For a nickel I could buy the cinnamon flavored Life Saver roll. Every Christmas I got the Life Saver’s book in my stocking. The first roll I’d eat was always the cinnamon followed by the root beer roll. My sister sent me cinnamon lollipops from See’s Candy one year. After the first lick, I was addicted. I bought a couple of boxes more. I got more for Christmas. I bought more. Finally I called a halt. I got a See’s catalogue the other day. I’m afraid to look through it. I have no resistance.

This week I get to join the world. I haven’t left my house since last Sunday though I did have two visitors, my friend Mary Allen and my nephew Tim. Both of them brought light. Tim shoveled me out, cleared the back stairs for Henry and brought hot food and coffee. He took trash. Mary Allen brought me the vegetables for my sausage dinner. She brought already made spaghetti and meatballs and Italian bread. She brought cream. The best thing she bought was what looked like a giant eclair. It had layers from the bottom up: dough, custard, cream and the dough top covered in chocolate. My hands were covered in cream and chocolate. I felt like a little kid, a contented little kid.

I woke earlier than usual. I was shocked to find it only a bit after nine. I can’t remember the last time I had so much morning. so much extra time. I dawdled and had an English muffin and two cups of coffee. The day is pretty and warmish. It might even get to 40°. I have no plans except for a few household chores.

When I was in Ghana, my students wanted to know everything about my home. They would visit after study hours. I’d hear a knock then what sounded like caw, caw. They’d leave their shoes at the front door then come inside. I showed them pictures of my home and family and answered their questions. They wanted to know why I had no children being as old as I was, 22, and why no husband. They wondered how Mary had Jesus but was still a virgin. For that one, I just said it was God’s way. They asked about snow. Their understanding of cold was based on harmattan weather when the nights could get as chilly as the 60’s or 70’s and even colder. My students layered for those cold mornings. I chuckled and enjoyed the cooler morning. I used crushed ice cubes to give them an idea of real cold. I even threw a few snowballs. If they were here for this storm, they would have believed the world was ending.

I still can see in my mind’s eye the house where I grew up. It was on a corner lot so we had a bigger front yard than the other duplexes. Just beyond the steps was a grassy hill. Below the hill was a sidewalk. On it was mailbox and a streetlight pole. Sitting inside by the picture window was my favorite spot when it snowed. I’d watch the snow fall. It was highlighted by the streetlight. The snow would sometimes fall sideways, blown by the wind. There was a fierceness about it. Sometimes large, wet flakes would fall. They took a while to stick to the ground. The smaller flakes fell constantly and quickly covered the ground. I’d keep checking to see how deep the snow was getting. My last check was just before bed. I fell asleep hopeful that the snow was covering everything, that I’d hear the no school fire alarm. Back then, for every kid, snow was a good thing.