Last night it rained. The rain was loud and heavy for a while. Surprisingly, both dogs went out before bed. They didn’t mind the wet. The rain just started again. I saw it against the den window. It will rain on and off all day.

I had a late start this morning. I slept in for the first time in a while. The dogs stayed with me. I woke up first. Nala was reluctant to get off the bed. Henry got up and waited on the stairs for me. I love that he does that. They both went out, came in for treats and then got comfortable for their morning naps. My father used to say he wanted to come back as a pet in any of our houses.

Sundays in Ghana were different than any other day of the week. The cafeteria was reconfigured so that the benches became pews for a morning service. My students wore their three piece traditional dresses. Each of the four classes had their own prints. Religious figures from town sat in chairs at tables in front of the students. Hymns were sung and there was one sermon. The speakers alternated from among the town’s religious leaders: the white father, the minister from one of the churches or the imam from the mosque. One Sunday I got stuck. It was about the scariest thing I did in Ghana. My inspiration wasn’t the Bible. It was Aesop. I talked about the grasshoppers and the ants and the boy who cried wolf. I still remember the look on my principal’s face. She never asked me again.

After the service, the older students were allowed to go to town. Photographers came to the school grounds and took pictures. My students changed from their uniforms to their best dresses. Every Sunday was a sort of celebration.

If I could, I would travel back in time to my favorite Sunday dinner, roast beef, gravy, mashed potatoes and peas. It was the meal my mother cooked for me before I left for Ghana. I left on a Sunday. I remember the ride to Logan. We didn’t talk much. They walked with me to the gate. We waited together until the gate was open, and I could board. We hugged. I told them I’d call to let them know I had arrived in Philadelphia, our staging area. When I looked back before I went into the jet way, my mother waved. I think we both cried.

I am going to the dump today.

This entry was posted on May 3, 2026 at 1:07 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.