A nor’easter is on its way. The weather service has issued a blizzard warning starting at 4 pm today and extending into Tuesday morning. The latest prediction is 12-18 inches of wet snow accompanied by heavy winds. Most of the schools are already announcing their closings. The animals, Henry, Nala and Jack, and I will hunker down. The dogs do go out, but I swear they do their business on the run. I have everything I need; however, I did eat the Snickers. I’m thinking I’ll make some brownies.

My dogs don’t drool. They bubble. Nala’s bubble is always bigger than Henry’s. When I sit on the couch and eat something, each dog stands on one side of me, sort of cornering me. I do share but in their bowls. This morning they each got a piece of my toast. I think they were also hoping for coffee, but I didn’t share.

When I was a kid, we didn’t know it would be a snow day until the morning when the fire alarm rang out from the station. No school was a special alarm, its own alarm. We’d still be in our pajamas hoping. We’d listen to the alarm and count. We’d cheer. I think my mother grimaced.

Sunday was always a quiet day. We went to mass. Some times we’d ride with my dad, the usher, but mostly we walked. My father often brought home donuts. He was a plain donut man. He’d slather his donut with butter. Dinner was the special meal of the week. Every other day we had supper. On Sunday we had a roast, mostly chicken or beef. We always had mashed potatoes and some veggies. Corn was a favorite, kernel corn.

Before I left for Ghana and the Peace Corps, my mother asked what I’d like her to make for my last dinner home. I didn’t need to take any time, roast beef, gravy, mashed potatoes and LeSueur peas from the can. It was a quiet dinner with small talk filling the spaces. It was quiet enough to hear the clinks of forks on plates. I was excited and nervous. They were worried. I left the next day. My father drove my mother and me to Logan Airport. It was nearly two hours away. We didn’t talk a lot, didn’t want to trigger the emotions we were barely holding back. I remember saying goodbye at the gate. We hugged. When I turned for my last look, my mother gave me a tiny wave. That is what I most remember.

This entry was posted on February 22, 2026 at 2:01 pm and is filed under Musings. You can subscribe via RSS 2.0 feed to this post's comments. You can comment below, or link to this permanent URL from your own site.