The morning is cloudy and still. It will stay partly cloudy all day or partly sunny if you lean toward optimism. It is 58° and won’t get much higher. I have a couple of errands including the dump. I have a couple of chores, fill the feeders and water the plants, a sort of fauna and floral list.

Yesterday, after my concert, I took the long way home. I saw ghosts, giant black cats, pumpkins and one shark in front of houses on the back road. I noticed many of the trees have bare branches and fallen leaves cover the sides of the road. Fall is winding down and will soon have to make way for winter. Here in New England, every season has its turn.

When I think back, I remember places and people now gone. They sit waiting in my memory drawers for their turn to be recalled. If I close my eyes, I can see moments frozen in time.

When I was a kid, we moved out of the city, out of South Boston. I was four and already a city kid. I played on the hot top behind our apartment building in between the clothes lines, on the sidewalks and on the parking lot across the street. I have memories of back then. I can still see the tall chain link fence around the lines in the backyard. I’d climb it and then jump off. I jumped off backwards a few times then had my mother watch my grand feat. When I landed, I hurt my wrist bracing myself. It was my worst performance. My mother told me the after story. She was worried about my wrist and called my grandfather. He told her to move it a bit. I was sleeping at the time. She told him I never moved or made a sound. I just kept sleeping. My grandfather suggested she have it x-rayed. The wrist was fractured. I was quite proud of my cast.

Soon after we moved, my brother and I went exploring. We walked down the hill out of the neighborhood. We saw a stream behind some houses and checked it out. We put small branches in the stream and watched them float. We built a bit of a dam with rocks. We stayed there a while. I still remember where the stream was. It is gone now, but the houses are still there. We kept wandering. We didn’t realize we were lost explorers. Our parents got worried. The police found us walking on the sidewalk a distance from the house. I thought it was an adventure, my very first adventure.

The morning is fall chilly at 55°. The day is lovely. The sky is the deepest blue with no clouds, and the sun is squint your eyes bright. The deck is covered in fallen yellow leaves. Some are still bright while others are brown with curling edges. The birds are back. Two feeders are empty. I’ll fill them in a bit.

When I was a kid, I did pretty much the same thing every day. I ate breakfast, got dressed, walked to school, learned, ate lunch, had recess, learned some more then walked home, but I never thought my life was routine. It was often filled with the unexpected amid the usual. I’d find the perfect yellow or red leaf and press it in my school book to save it. At home, I’d iron it between sheets of wax paper. I’d make an art piece. On my walk, I’d notice the Halloween decorations in the windows of the houses I passed. I’d see witches on brooms, ghosts and pumpkins. I’d learn something new every day. I’d sometimes find a surprise in my lunch, a Hostess cupcake. I’d take off the frosting. It usually came off in a single piece. I’d eat around the cream then I’d eat the cream followed by the frosting. It was my best cupcake technique practiced and honed over time. After school we’d play outside, go back in, watch TV, eat dinner, watch TV again then go to bed where I’d read a little before turning out the light. Life was seldom boring. It was one of the joys of being a kid.

In Ghana, I knew my life was never routine despite the sameness of each weekday. I ate eggs and toast for breakfast and fruit for lunch every day. Suppers didn’t vary much either. I remember walking each morning across the school compound from my house to the classroom block. I never took even that short walk for granted. I was always aware of how unique my life was. All that childhood wonder had returned.