A long sleeve shirt is the order of the morning because the house is chilly. I can feel a breeze coming from my back door, from the south. Outside is warmer. The sun is bright. The day is pretty.

When I was a kid, Sunday was a real day of rest. My neighborhood was quiet. Saturday was the noisy day, the day for the sounds of lawn mowers and of rakes pulled across the cut grass. The lawn mowers were hand mowers. They clicked. The backyards were busy on Saturdays. The wash was hung on clotheslines to dry. All the duplexes up and down the street had their clotheslines in the back, and on my street the backs of the houses faced a grassy hill. You could stand by the clotheslines and see all the backyards in a row, in a straight line down the street. They all looked exactly the same. Little kids, like my two younger sisters, played in the backyards.

Sunday was different, always quiet. Everyone, often whole families together, went to church. The pews were sometimes filled so people stood in the back. I liked standing. I got credit for going without having to do anything. My father ushered at an early mass. After mass, he’d buy the Sunday paper and donuts. As soon as he’d get home, he’d change out of his suit and sit in the chair by the picture window to read the paper. I used to read the Sunday comics. I’d lie on the rug to read them. I never went exploring on Sundays. If I went anywhere, it was with the family. Sunday was the least interesting day of the week.

My sister reminded me old age is not for the faint of heart. I am limping. I again hurt my right leg. I moan when I move, when I walk. Nala is sympathetic. She wags her tail at me and gives me kisses. Henry is disinterested in my plight. The other night I must have slept wrong as my neck hurts if I look to the right. I seem to be falling apart one piece at a time. I’ll keep a list.

We had sun then clouds then the sun came back but only for a bit as the clouds right now seem more insistent. The breeze is strong. It is 73° and won’t get much warmer. Nala and Henry are asleep on the couch, their usual morning ritual. I am about to have my second cup of coffee and maybe an English muffin. I have fig jam.

When I was a kid, even common things filled me with awe. Back then I didn’t know the word awe, but I knew the feelings which seemed to defy description. They filled my everywhere. I knew that clouds and stars and the sun and moon sometimes stopped me in my tracks. I’d lie on the grass and watch the clouds. I’d see a dog or a head or a horse and more as the clouds moved. At night I’d check the man in the moon. Many nights his mouth was open as if in surprise. I could see the Milly Way on clear nights when stars filled the sky, and their light made shadows on the ground. Sunsets were orange and red and yellow. The colors filled the whole sky. In the morning the sun slowly rose with more of it appearing as it grew bigger and brighter. Sometimes the sun and moon shared the sky. I imagined their conversations about how everything went as one took over the sky from the other.

When I was older, I got busy. My view of the world shifted, got more grounded but no less wonderful, just different. I was into clothes, though not much, nights out, movies, music and hanging around with friends. They were the best friends. We laughed a lot and found ways to entertain ourselves, to find adventure, to celebrate life. I remember in high school we sneaked picnic food in our school bags to the top floor of the library and ate sitting on the floor surrounded by the stacks of books. We wandered Harvard Square, visited the museums and saw movies at the Brattle Theater. We were explorers.

Since then my life has gone through so many cycles. I could spend days describing Ghana and the wonder of it. I have so many stories about the high school kids I once taught and the ones who got sent to my office. I love all of them.

I am so much older now. I now count my life in filled dance cards. Awe has returned. I pulled my car into a rest area last week so I could watch the sunset. The sky was pink. I stand on the deck and some mornings can smell the ocean. I do nothing some days and love every lazy minute. I can actually play a musical instrument. Life still surprises me.