The rain began last night. A rain so quiet I didn’t realize it had started until the dogs came inside with wet fur. This morning is the same. I didn’t realize it was raining until I went to get the newspaper. Scattered showers are predicted. It is cold for the end of May, 55°. I have a dump run on my to do list. Sunday is a big day here for dump runs, but I suspect the rain will be a deterrent.

I miss the Sundays of my childhood. I think one day should continue to be set aside for families, for a real breakfast of eggs and bacon and toast eaten at the kitchen table, for rides to nowhere, for Sunday dinners, the special dinner of the week, for a lazy day at the beach and, especially, a day for families just to be together, maybe doing nothing but sitting around and watching a movie or even playing a board game the way we did when I was a kid. Six days are enough for a whirling world.

I put my shower curtain back up yesterday. I had to haul my stepladder up the stairs. It is quite heavy making it difficult to move, a one step at a time project. It has a hold bar at the top making it wonderfully safe. I easily managed to rehang the curtain at the exact right height then I started the arduous task of bringing the stepladder back to the cellar stairs where I keep it leaning against the wall so I can grab it easily. The ladder made it down the first couple of steps then I lost control. It slid down the rest of the steps. I wasn’t dismayed. I was glad I didn’t have to move it much further.

The first year I was in Ghana we were not allowed to drive a car or have a motorcycle except the guys who were track coaches were given motorcycles by Peace Corps as they had to travel from school to school. Why they were safe to drive and we weren’t always irked me a bit; however, during my second year that ban was lifted. I went to Tamale, the big city, to buy a moto as the Ghanaians called motorcycles. I bought a small bike, a Honda 90, for lots of reasons. It was one I could afford, it was easy to drive and it maintained my modesty as I always had to wear a dress. I had never even ridden on a bike let alone driven one. The guy at the store had to teach me how to use the gears and the brake. I rode around the store’s lot for a while until I felt I could probably ride home safely, a trip of 100 miles, but it was a straight road, an easy road. I delighted in the ride. It was wonderful to see everything so up close as I drove by. I ate a few bugs. I stopped a couple of times. I made it home safely. It was the best ride I ever had.

This entry was posted on May 24, 2026 at 12:52 pm and is filed under Musings. You can subscribe via RSS 2.0 feed to this post's comments.

Tags: dump run, family, Ghana, motorcycle, Peace Corps, rain