It is a bright, sunny, cool morning, but the day will be hot. We’re talking Cape Cod hot. The high will be 78°. My friends in Texas would wear winter coats.

I have an empty dance card today so I’ll be staying home. My to-do list is short. I have to hunt down my other slipper. It disappeared. I also have to vacuum, no surprise there, but I have an idea which may save me. I’ll wear socks and dust the floor as I walk. This technique originated in Moscow where they made us put covers over all our shoes when we toured museums. Their floors were all shiny and dust free.

When I lived in Ghana, my mother sent me packages. Inside them were games, books and, best of all, food. I remember beef jerky, boxes of Chef Boyardee pizza mix, envelopes like beef stroganoff and soup and candy which wouldn’t melt on the trip. I rationed my treats. Six days a week I’d eat Ghanaian food. Sunday was American food day.

Toward the end of my PST, a Peace Corps acronym meaning pre-service training, we were in Korforidua when one of the staff invited me to go to Accra with her. She drove. We went to a small, classy bar near the casinos. I didn’t even know places like that existed. We sat at the bar and played liar’s dice with the bartender for drinks. We did a bit of dancing on the small dance floor. I never found those places again.

During Easter vacation in my second year I went to Accra. I met up with friends who were also staying in the hostel. One of them was leaving Ghana as his school was closed for the rest of the year because of a riot. We all decided to have a few farewell drinks with him. We went to a large old hotel. The bar had tall ceilings and plants in pots by the long windows. There were couches and chairs covered in flowery fabrics. Overhead were fans. I felt as if I had been transported back in time to a bar in a grand hotel like Raffles. I was no longer in the Ghana I knew so well. I expected well dressed British couples to come through the door for cocktail hour. It was that kind of place.

The day is perfect. The sun is brilliant. The air is dry. It is 69° and won’t get much hotter. An intermittent breeze sways the small branches and flutters the oak leaves. I should stand on the porch and sing “Oh What a Beautiful Morning” as I dance about like a character in a musical.

I have a concert today on the village green in Hyannis. I think a village green harkens back to earlier days. The women in the audience should be wearing long dresses and carrying parasols while the men should wear suits and bow ties and straw boaters on their heads. We’re singing songs about America.

Last night we had a tremendous rain storm with thunder and lightening. For the first time, Henry got scared, leaned on me and shook a bit. I hugged him and spoke softly hoping to reassure him. Nala didn’t seem afraid, alert maybe but not afraid. After the thunder died away, Henry settled down and fell back asleep.

When I was a kid, summer life was easy. My sole responsibility was to have fun. During the day, I seldom stayed home. Even in the rain I was out and about. I used to explore. In my mind’s eye, I can still see that field below my house. It had a path where the tall grass had been beaten down by footsteps. On both sides of the field were trees. One side had thick trees while the other side had fewer trees and led to a street. It was on that side where we buried our turtle. He was in a cigar box, and we buried him deep. Later they would build elderly apartments there, and I always wondered if they found the box. On the other side was another path which led to the water tower. Blueberry bushes were on one side of the path. We ate them and cleared the bushes. The middle path had the thick rotted trunk of a tree with a split off branch on its side. We climbed over the branch though we could have walked around it. It was a sort of ritual. That path led to the swamp and ended at a street. I always used it as a short cut. I remember when they plowed the field under and cut down the trees to build more elderly apartments. They destroyed a piece of my childhood, but I had a memory drawer filled to the brim. I get to visit that field still.