My world is slushy. The snow fell for only a short while then the rain came. It is still raining, a heavy rain I can hear on the roof. What is left of the snow is now the top of the slushy mess. When you step down, you step into water up to the tops of the boots, and you leave footprints which quickly fill with water. It is an uninviting world, but I have to go out to a concert this afternoon. 

I have always loved rain. I loved summer rain the most. I used to love getting wet on a hot summer’s day. I’d walk in the gutter and kick the water running down to the sewer. We’d splash each other and laugh. We’d air dry. 

Winter rain was uncomfortable. I didn’t have a rain coat, and I always got wet, and I always got cold. My shoes were soaked. I’d take them off, and my socks were so sodden they’d leave footprints on the floor. My hair dripped water. I sat by the radiator trying to get warm. After school, I’d put on my pajamas, my cozy clothes. I’d lie in bed and read.

Sunday was my least favorite day. First was church. I’d have to wear a dress or a skirt and a hat. I never understood why a hat was necessary. I hated hats. I was glad when mantillas appeared. They were easy, a lace head covering you could keep in your pocket until walking into the church. I did love Sunday dinners. They were special. I knew they’d always been mashed potatoes and a couple of vegetables. The meat was a roast, sometimes beef and sometimes chicken. I favored the beef. 

Some Sundays we stayed home. I’d hang around the house, maybe watch TV or read. Other times we’d go to my grandparents’ house as did my aunts and uncles. I was the oldest cousin. I had no one near my age except an aunt, 5 months younger under than I. Her room was upstairs. No one was allowed there. She and I never got along. Other than the spaghetti always on the stove and the fun of grating the cheese I didn’t enjoy going to East Boston. 

When I was in Ghana, there was a service every Sunday in the school cafeteria. The tables were stacked, and the chairs were arranged in rows facing the table where the principal, guests and the speaker who was giving the sermon sat. I used to go. It was expected, but I never really minded. I was in Africa where I savored every experience. 

My concert today is at the mall. We are singing love songs of the 60’s. I still don’t have a raincoat.

The snow showers will start tonight but will turn to rain here on the cape. The rain will continue into tomorrow, a warm tomorrow in the 40’s. Over an inch of rain is predicted. 

The birds were many at the feeders this morning. The two goldfinches from yesterday brought a friend. Mr. Cardinal joined his wife. A robin dropped by, the first time here. The stalwarts, the usual birds, were in and out, chickadees, nuthatches and titmice. I noticed a couple of the feeders need to be filled. I put that on the to do list.

When I was young, I saw the magic. I saw the field below my house bright with blinking fireflies. I’d check out the man in the moon. I swear he had two expressions. He was either smiling or open mouthed as if surprised. I saw the shapes of the snowflakes and sometimes stood outside to catch them on my tongue. My face would get a layer of snow. I always wondered how there could be so many flakes all different in shape. Jumping over the double O railroad ties saved my mother from a broken back. I wasn’t really sure about that one, but I didn’t want to tempt fate so I jumped. My mother never did get a broken back. Coincidence? I didn’t think so. On one trip to Boston, my father bought peanuts for us to give to the squirrels. Back then they hadn’t yet become the spawns of Satan. I remember being surrounded by  squirrels who knew I had peanuts, a bit of squirrel telepathy. They’d stand on their back feet to get closer to me. They took the peanuts right out of my hand. How could that be? 

 When I got older, I was so busy I didn’t take the time to see the magic, even forgot about it though it still surrounded me. I remember it all came back one night when I sat on my new deck. My backyard had fireflies. I saw the blinking. I saw the magic. 

The magic is all around me again. When it snows, I turn on the back light so I can watch the flakes fall. I am still amazed. The fireflies come back every summer. I sit on the deck and follow them with my eyes. I love light rides at Christmas. I ooh and ahh. I think the man in the moon is mostly smiling. He knows I found the magic again.