The day is beautiful. The darkness of yesterday has given way to a bright sun and a blue sky. It is 74°, a perfect temperature. Last night was cool, down to the mid 60’s. I easily fell asleep.

When I was a kid, fall meant darkness came earlier every day. After school there wasn’t much time to play or bike ride or wander a little before the streetlights came on, and we had to go inside to get ready for supper. We’d watch TV while my mother finished getting supper ready. I remember the sound of her mashing the potatoes. The masher would clink when it hit the side of the pan. The hot vegetables were in pans sitting on the stove. They’d be corn or peas or green beans. I remember ground beef in gravy topping the mashed potatoes. That was one of my favorite suppers. I’d mix in the peas. It wasn’t pretty. We’d watch TV after supper. My father always came home late, too late to sit with us at supper. He was a salesman, and his territory was the south shore, a long ride away. In my mind’s eye I see him wearing a top coat and a fedora when he came in the front door.

Because at this time of year the mornings kept the evening chill, my mother would force me to wear a sweater to school because my uniform blouse had short sleeves. I’d ditch the sweater for the walk home. After school, every kid in the world had to change from school clothes to play clothes. I’d change into girls’ dungarees, the sort with a zipper in the front pocket, a jersey, a light jacket or a sweatshirt and sneakers, dirty white sneakers with pointed toes. Sometimes, when it got colder, I’d wear flannel lined dungarees with a pocket zipper, the start of my cozy clothes.

I vacuumed this morning. That high pitched squeal you might hear is my sloth complaining. I feel it’s pain.

The rain started last night. I could hear it hit the barbecue. It was still raining when I went to bed. The morning is dark and quite humid. I’ve left the house dark. It seems the right way to acknowledge the day. More rain is predicted. The weather lends itself to a lazy day.

My dance card is empty this week. I guess I’ll have to vacuum, no excuse not to tidy the house.

When I was a kid, I got excited as school got closer. By this time, I had everything I needed for school, a new pencil case, crayons, lunchbox, school bag, school shoes and new parts of my uniform, a new skirt, blouse and blue tie. I remember the night before school. We had baths, an oddity on a Monday night. Afterwards, I’d take out my new school supplies and organize my school bag. My mother took our lunch boxes to the kitchen. In the morning she’d make sandwiches and add dessert. We got the best desserts, Hostess desserts, during the first week of school. I think it was my mother’s way to soften the blow, to make school a tiny bit appealing. Bologna with mayo was usually the sandwich. Sometimes there were chips.

I used to keep my lunch box under my desk chair. I loved Hostess cupcakes. I was a chocolate hound. I had a method for eating the cupcakes. I’d save the thick frosting top for last. First I’d eat the cupcake around the inside cream then eat the cream. The frosting was thick and had that white swirl cross the middle. It was always in one piece. My mother would give us milk money just before we left. The walk to school was short. The wait in the schoolyard for the bell seemed shorter. Once we were in the building, the school year had officially started. We were caught in the school trap. One day down.