Last night it rained. Right now it is 56° and cloudy. Today should get as high as 60°. This warmish weather has the dogs wanting out but only Nala coming in. Henry stands outside the back door looking in and hoping I’ll see him. I feel like a Jack-in-the-box. I’d wait him out but he cries and whimpers. 

When I was young, we lived in South Boston in an apartment complex of huge brick buildings. Our back yard was mostly fenced in clothes lines. My mother used to check on me from the back window of our apartment. Only a few old black and white pictures of our apartment still exist. I have a few memories prompted by those pictures. One picture is of me on Santa’s lap on the couch. I don’t remember sitting on Santa’s lap, but I do remember sneaking a peek of him from the barely opened bedroom door across from that couch. A neighbor took a picture of me one Easter in all my finery. I am standing on the front steps. I remember being a bit embarrassed, and I can see that look in my picture. Another picture is of me and a few other kids standing against a wall. We look scruffy. I don’t remember the kids, but I do remember the wall. Strange memories lurk in my memory drawers.

As far back as I can remember, we’ve had a television. My mother told me the first one she ever saw belonged to a neighbor who lived in an apartment beside ours in that apartment building in South Boston. Every night, neighbors would bring their chairs, sit in the hall and watch TV. My parents would leave their apartment door open so they could hear us, my brother and me, if we started crying. When we moved away from South Boston, my parents bought their own TV.

If I could choose to go where I’ve never been, I’d be hard-pressed to pick a place. I haven’t been to Asia so I’m putting it on the list. I had a trip planned, but, instead, I bought my house. A long train trip would be high on the list. It wouldn’t have to be anywhere exotic though I’d love to ride the Orient Express. I’ve taken a few overnight trains and loved falling asleep to the clicking of the train wheels on the tracks. I’d go to Alaska but not Hawaii. I’d love to see Turkey and India. There are more places, but these are enough for now.

The house is cold. The furnace died again last night. This time it feels ominous. I could have had an emergency visit last night but chose to wait for a regular appointment to save money. I do have one electric heater and have put it here in the den. The dogs are asleep on the couch beside me. Jack is in his house upstairs and is also sleeping. I’m wearing a sweatshirt under fleece and socks under muk-luks. Our appointment isn’t until tomorrow.

The morning is cloudy. Rain is predicted. It is now 48° but it will get a bit warmer. I’m hoping for 80’s, as if….

I always knew I’d travel. I made that vow to myself when I was a kid. I had no places in mind. I  just wanted to go somewhere. Canada was my first foreign country, but it didn’t seem foreign. Everybody spoke English. Both sides of Niagara Falls looked the same, but I still counted it as country number one. It wouldn’t be until years later that I added to my list. Country number two was Ghana. I had read about Ghana before I went, but when I arrived, Ghana was so much more, a place filled with different sounds and colors, strange foods and sights, sights I had never imagined. Over time Ghana became familiar but never common. 

I traveled by myself to Morocco. My first view of the city was from my calèche, a horse drawn carriage, I had chosen to take one at the airport instead of a car to take me into the city, into  Marrakech. The air seemed to be filled with the aroma of spices. The buildings were red from red sandstone. I was so excited to be there I even waved at people as we passed their carriages. We got to the main square, the Jemaa el-Fna. From there I had to walk to my riad, a small hotel once a house, in the old section of the city. I memorized how to get to my riad, how to get there by navigating the small, narrow turns. Most days I wandered all over the city. I walked through the maze of the Medina. I followed a small boy to a restaurant at the back of a furniture store. I saw sheep heads being baked in large, tall round ovens. I didn’t stop to try any meat. I stopped at souks to look and to shop. The spice souks were amazing with mounds of colored spices on tables in front and on shelves lining the walls. Every afternoon I stopped at the same cafe for coffee, a cup or two. I ate at night in the square. I watched the dancers. I bought dessert at kiosks and ate it as walked to my riad. Marrakech was different. I loved it for all those differences.

I have no plans for today. I’ll just bundle and try to stay warm.