The morning is cloudy and windy but light and warm. It is already 58° and could actually hit 60°. That sounds almost tropical. I think I might just sit on the deck for a while and take in the day. I’ll watch the goldfinches at the thistle feeders.

When I was a kid, my bicycle was the best Christmas present I ever received. It was blue. It had a wire basket in front. It was my chariot. I rode it until the first snow. It was kept in the cellar. Putting it in and taking it out was difficult. The cellar was at the bottom of a flight of stairs, and a tall concrete wall was in front of the cellar door. I had to lift the bicycle so it was on one wheel outside the door in order to turn it to the stairs. That always took a bit of maneuvering. Pulling it up the stairs was the last obstacle to riding, to hitting the road. Despite everything, though, I always thought my bike was worth the effort. 

I remember in the fifth grade we were bussed to the next town over. They had empty classrooms. We didn’t have enough room so for half a year we were bussed while a new school building was being built catty corner to the old school. We used to line up on the driveway beside the church to wait for the busses. Each bus had a nun monitor. Our monitor was my fifth grade nun. She sat on the back seat as she was a hefty nun who needed room. It wasn’t a long bus ride. I remember  reading Little Women on the ride. I don’t remember much else.

We always ate white bread, Wonder Bread. I didn’t even knew other breads existed. I remember lunches and how the middle of the bread in my peanut butter and jelly sandwich sometimes got a bit soggy and sank. Jelly seeped through, purple Welch’s grape jelly. It was the only jelly my mother bought. We had a lot of jelly glasses.

My father was a coffee drinker, an instant coffee drinker by choice. My mother didn’t drink coffee or tea. She used to drink Coke in the morning. We called my mother the seagull. She used to eat cold hot dog sandwiches, sometimes with cucumbers. She’d slice the hot dog so it would fit into a sandwich. I remember seeing her stand by the counter to eat. She didn’t like coffee but she loved biscotti dipped in coffee. A tuna melt was one of her favorite sandwiches. She loved the lunch counter at Woolworth’s. 

Yesterday I overreached. I went to my uke concert. Last night I was exhausted and went to bed early for me. My chest is a bit sore today. I’m going to take it easy.

Spring seems to have the upper hand. The bushes have buds, and the forsythia has bloomed in the brightest yellow. The sun is so bright that every thing is lit by light. The sky is the deepest blue. The breeze is ever the slightest, and only a few brown leaves flutter from the scrub oak tree by the deck. More flowers have bloomed in the front garden. The morning is a poster day for spring.

When I was a kid, I had a spring jacket I loved. It had a zipper. It was lightweight. It was an acknowledgment of spring warmth. Gone was my winter coat, my hat and mittens, but I usually wore a sweater underneath my jacket as the mornings were still chilly. I had the best walk to school. The street was a straightaway with a sidewalk shaded by tall trees on both sides. I remember when the trees started to come alive. First came the buds then the tiny shoots opened. They were a light green, a different green than the leaves would be. By the time the leaves came, the mornings were warmer. It was time to ditch the sweater.

During recess, the girls stayed on one side of the school yard, and the boys stayed on the other. Both sides had small groups standing around just talking. The girls’ side also had rope jumpers. I was never a jumping rope fan as I wasn’t very good at it. The boys shot baskets. The hoop had green paint. When I was in the seventh grade, I played CYO basketball so I tried to get time at the hoops for girls’. I was told that basketball was for boys as girls’ had physical limitations related to being female. I protested, but it didn’t matter. We never played hoops. 

Today is Good Friday. We had it off from school but were required to keep vigil in the church for a time. I remember the church looked dark. All the statues were covered in purple cloth. People sat here and there mostly with heads bent in prayer. I was always bored. I had my missal with me, but it wasn’t an exciting read. The time passed so slowly I swear I was there for days. I was so excited when the nun gave us permission to leave. Freedom!

I feel almost back to myself today. I can reach without moaning in pain. My hand is almost clear of black and blues. My chest hurts only a little. It is a happy day!!