The air is crisp. Last night was cold. The morning sun is glinting through the trees and highlighting the thick branches of the oak trees, the ones by the deck. Nothing is moving. It is quiet. Even the leaves at the end of the branches are still. Everything is pretty in the sunlight.
The house is clean. The backyard is escape proof. The front lawn and deck are clear of leaves and debris. Fallen trunks from small, dead trees were hauled out of the backyard now made ready for winter.
The weather forecast is for a passing shower this afternoon. We’ll be in the 50’s today and the rest of the week. The nights will drop to the 40’s. Fall is giving way to colder days and nights.
When I was a kid, I resisted as long as I could, but as the mornings grew colder, my mother insisted I wear a sweater under my jacket on the walk to school.
I loved the first morning I could see my breath. The air was clean, clear. The sunlight was sharp but not so warm anymore. My footsteps echoed on the sidewalk. Fallen leaves filled the gutters. Fall was disappearing before my very eyes.
When we got home from school, we had to change into our play clothes. Back then, my wardrobe was divided into school clothes, play clothes and church clothes. My school clothes were a blue skirt, white blouse and a blue tie, our school uniform. My church clothes were a dress or skirt and a blouse. My play clothes were seasonal. In the warmer seasons I wore shorts, a sleeveless blouse and sneakers. When it got cold, I’d wear my dungarees, girly dungarees with a zipper in the side pocket, and long sleeve shirts. My favorites were flannel shirts, still are.
On school days, breakfasts changed with the seasons. On the warmer days it was cereal, dry cereal with milk, and on the colder days it was sometimes oatmeal with butter and brown sugar or eggs, mostly soft-boiled eggs in yellow chicken egg cups. I remember the breakfast table. A teapot filled with hot water sat in the middle. That was for the tea drinkers. I was a cocoa drinker. My mother made that cup by cup. I remember there were bubbles on the top of the cocoa. Once a while, we’d just have toast and our hot drink of choice. I remember the toast buttered then covered in cinnamon. That was a treat.
In Ghana my breakfasts didn’t change for the whole two years. I ate two eggs cooked in groundnut oil (peanut oil), two pieces of toast and a couple of mugs of instant coffee, the only coffee sold. I loved the fresh bread and the taste of those eggs. I never tired of that breakfast.


