When I went to get the paper, I could smell the ocean. I don’t live near the ocean, but some mornings everything is right for that wonderful smell to fill the air. I stood outside for a while. Today is another lovely fall day. The morning is chilly as fall mornings are. We have muted sunlight and a blue sky. Today will be in the 60’s.

Yesterday I hauled the storm door from the cellar to the kitchen. It is cold at night, and because I have to keep the door open so the dogs can come and go through the dog door, it was time. I had to move the door corner to corner to get it upstairs as it was heavy to lift. The difficult part was holding it to get it in the door, but I was successful. I think the bit of cursing helped. Other than my uke lesson, that was the only thing I did all day.

I had an aunt who was a nun, my father’s older sister. We used to have to visit her once a year in Connecticut. We’d wear our church clothes. We’d stop at a brick gas/relief station close to the convent where she lived. My mother would make sure hair was brushed and faces were clean. I remember in the convent we always sat in the living room. The convent was quiet. The visit was awkward. We didn’t have much to say to each other. She’d take us to her school to see her classroom. At some point another nun would bring cookies and milk for us and coffee for my father. My mother never drank coffee. I was never fond of my aunt. I don’t think any of us were.

I remember my first grade nun, Sister Redempta. She was scary. None of us dared to talk. We’d sit with hands folded on our desks just as she told us to do. There were so many of us the classroom was filled with long rows of desks. The room had two doors. One led to the cloakroom and the other to the hall. We were on the first floor. I always thought the school day was never ending. I was six.

When I was a young kid, I didn’t think of time as intervals, as seconds, minutes or hours. Time was a block. It was distance. I counted it in days. How many days until Saturday, until Christmas, until summer?

Two of my former students and I are meeting for lunch. We reconnected at their fiftieth class reunion a few weeks back. We’ll catch up today.

Today is fall. The sun is bright in a blue sky, for the meantime anyway, as clouds are predicted. The breeze is warm. The high today will be 66°. I’m still wearing flannel.

Nala loved her ride and loved the vet. She was so stressed, tongue in cheek here, that she fell asleep lying on the floor. She got her shots and her nails clipped. The tech who returned her to me said she is the nicest dog, a sweet girl. I agree, but I did have to bring in some hangers she stole and took outside and chase her for the bird seed loader.

When I was a kid, my mother woke me up every weekday morning, gave me breakfast, made sure I was dressed neatly in my school uniform, handed me my lunch and sent me on my way to school. It was the same each day, but I never noticed. I thought every day was special. Breakfast always included cocoa. I remember my mother made it with milk. There were always little bubbles on the top of the cocoa. Sometimes we had soft boiled eggs in chicken egg cups with sliced toast for dipping, oatmeal, always with a few lumps, or cold cereal, Rice Krispies for me. I’d hold the bowl to my ear and listen for the snap, crackle and pop.

The walk to school changed with the seasons. In the fall, the trees overhanging the sidewalk turned color then their leaves fell and covered the sidewalk. The leaves would turn brown and sort of crispy. They’d crackle underfoot. The walk was cold most winter days. Our cold breath made clouds, and we pretended to smoke. Sometimes the sidewalk had snow piled high on both sides. Most people shoveled the walk in front of their houses but a few didn’t. We’d stomp through the high snow. Spring was the best time. The air was sweet, flowers stated growing in the front beds of the houses lining the sidewalk and the birds sang. I wanted the walk to be longer.

I learned something new every day. I never knew what I’d see on my walk to school. I remember watching a frog jumping the tracks, and I remember a few birds’ nests on the branches of the maple trees. I saw flowers bloom and grow. It was a time of wonder.

When I was older, I forgot to notice the world around me, but that wonder returned when I was in Ghana. I found joy in everyday. I haven’t forgotten.