The sun is breaking through the early morning clouds, and I can see the blue. It will be another lovely day in the 70’s and in the 50’s tonight. That’s just about perfect.

My favorite Sunday dinner was roast beef with gravy, mashed potatoes and baby peas. I used to make a crater in the potatoes to hold the gravy. I’d also mix my peas with the potatoes. It wasn’t pretty, but it was tasty. My mother used to put slices of onion on the beef when it was roasting. I’d try to steal an onion, but the oven door was loud, and I always got caught.

When I was a kid, I dreamed of traveling the world. I’d be Nelly Bly. I had no specific destination. I wanted to see the whole world. I don’t know when my dream started. I remember making travel books filled with pictures from brochures and magazines. On each page, I’d write about my travels as if I’d really been there. They were my dream books.

Canada was my first foreign country. We stayed on the Canadian side of Niagara Falls. We didn’t need passports. Everyone spoke English. We ate at McDonald’s for lunch. I loved the falls, but I was disappointed that Canada didn’t seem foreign at all.

I wish I lived in the days of the Pan Am Clipper. I’d be traveling in luxury, crossing oceans and landing in foreign countries, really foreign countries. I’d travel first to Hawaii then on to Asia, exotic Asia. I’d make my way across the continent. I’d fill my travel trunk with souvenirs like a kimono from Japan. I’d write in my journal every night and not have to imagine.

I always think I have been lucky in life. My childhood dreams became real. I got to travel the world, except for Asia. I had a trip booked but bought a house instead. I always sort of joke about living in Asia. I’d still like to go there, but I want to go back to Ghana first. I’m hoping for a trip in three years, a birthday present from me to me. That is when I turn 80. Such a monumental birthday demands a monumental gift.

Today will be summer hot at 75°. It is a bright, lovely morning. Everything is still. Last night was cool, perfect for sleeping. The house still holds the chill.

The spiders’ webs have taken over. They stretch from corner to corner, across plant fronds, on the stairs and at the bottoms of chair legs. I keep moving.

I am a railroad fan. That love started when I was a kid and rode the subway with my mother. We’d take the bus to Sullivan Square from uptown then board the subway. I remember standing on the platform as close to the tracks as my mother allowed. I’d watch for the train. It came with a whoosh of wind. I always knelt on the seat so I could look out the window. I remember the squeal of the breaks when the train stopped at a station.

I didn’t take a passenger train until Ghana where I rode the train every place I could. Mostly I’d travel from Accra to Kumasi where the train tracks ended. I always traveled first class which didn’t cost a whole lot. I’d sit in my own compartment which had a glass door and a huge window next to the comfy chair. Harry Potter’s train reminded me of the Ghanaian train. At every stop, people came to the window trying to sell us food like bread, fruit and mystery meat kabobs. I always bought something. Once I took an overnight train. I had my own compartment with a pull down bed and a sink. The front of the train derailed during the night and shook me awake. We had to leave the train to walk on the tracks across a trestle bridge to the rescue train. That was my most exciting ride.

I rode trains all over Europe. The train in Finland took me to the Arctic Circle. The train from Copenhagen went across Europe to Hook of Holland. It took around 12 hours. The woman sharing our compartment was German, married to an Englishman and going home. She had a basket filled with food she shared with my friend and me. At Hook of Holland we took a ferry across the channel and picked up a train on the other side.

I rode trains in South America with spectacular views. I saw the Andes covered with snow. I saw bananas growing. The train changed directions at a switchback, at the Devil’s Nose. It was a bit scary. The most amazing ride was from Cusco to the train station below Machu Picchu. We saw Incan ruins, villages build on Incan stone, and, at one, point, I could see the front of the train from near the back. The trains were mostly just regular trains. Back, when I traveled there, few Americans did so the trains did not cater to tourists.

On my wish list, when I win the lottery, is riding the Orient Express. I hope Poirot is one of the passengers.