Today will have some light rain. The morning is chilly. It will be in the low 60’s during the day and the 50’s tonight. The sun has disappeared. Usually it hides all weekend but reappears on Monday, but today, I think the sun is lost.

When I was a kid, I never gave much thought to the future beyond the day or maybe even the next day. I counted the days before Christmas, but that was special. When my aunt the nun asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I made up an answer. I didn’t even know what I wanted to do on the next Saturday let alone some ambiguous future. Give me a break. I was nine.

The first time I even thought about the future was when I vowed to travel. That was when I contracted Barrett’s disease. My classmate Marty Barrett had been to England to visit his grandmother, and I was jealous. I used to go to East Boston to see mine. I had always pored over the pictures in my geography book and dreamed about traveling, about visiting far off places. The only relatives that ever traveled did so compliments of Uncle Sam. They were in the service. That included my father who, during World War II, had been to England, Belgium and the Netherlands. Canada was my first foreign country but, in my mind, it didn’t count. It felt unforeign, a perfect new word. I’d have to wait for Ghana for my next country which was about as foreign as I ever could have imagined.

Some places I have visited filled me with wonder and awe. Standing on the equator was one of them. I was in two hemispheres at the same time, one foot in each. Machu Picchu was another. I remember looking out one window and thinking that so very long ago an Incan looked out that same window and saw what I was seeing. Flying over the Andes and seeing the shadow of the plane on the mountain tops was like a scene from an adventure movie. It would have fit perfectly into Raiders of the Lost Ark. I remember thinking how craggy the tops of the mountains were.

I live in Massachusetts which has always felt old in a good way, but then I found out what old can actually be. The first trip I took after Ghana was to Europe, England first. Being there made me feel like I was in a history book. I walked in and around Stonehenge, visited all the tourist places in London, ate all sorts of interesting food, saw plays and traveled in the countryside. Nothing disappointed me.

It has been a while since I last traveled. I just haven’t been able to afford a trip, but I am starting to scrimp and save as in two years I want back to Ghana. I will be 80. It will be a present to myself.

Yesterday it rained; of course, it rained. Yesterday was the weekend, and it always rains on the weekends. This morning was sunny when I woke up. That didn’t last long. The clouds are back.

This car is smaller than my last car, the difference in size between a Corolla and a Camry. I’m not used to it yet. Yesterday I opened the back door to unload laundry and whacked myself hard in the face with the door. A bump between my eyebrows appeared almost immediately, and above my left eyebrow swelled. Luckily it hasn’t black and blued as I’d need a cover story to explain the injury rather than the real story, the door story. I think I need a keeper.

When I was a kid, going to mass on Sunday was more of an inconvenience than an act of faith. In the upstairs of my church, I’d try for the back pew. It was a corner pew for one person. It didn’t have a kneeler. It was the best pew for an early escape.

In the summer, the early masses were so full there was an overflow. People stood in the back by the doors and even outside. I remember sitting on the stairs with my back to the doors. I chatted a bit. It was more of a lark than a rite. Downstairs was much smaller than upstairs and filled fast mostly because there was no sermon. I loved standing in the back. There were books and pamphlets. I usually read a few.

In Ghana, my school always had a Sunday service. It was in the dining hall. The tables were moved, and the chairs were in rows. The sermon giver was from one of the churches in town. They alternated. I remember when my principal asked me to give the sermon. I wanted to say no but no one said no to her. I spent hours trying to figure out what to say. I ended up using Aesop fables. I had to use fables to which my students could find a connection, and, for a couple, I changed the animals to those found in Africa. The Ant and the Grasshopper, The Boy Who Cried Wolf and the Tortoise and the Hare were my choices. The wolf became a lion and the hare a bush rat.

My principal never asked me again. I think she was shocked.