Keep the Coffee Comimg

Today is so lovely it just about defines fall on Cape Cod. It’s 65° and sunny. I went on the deck to fill the birds’ favorite feeder and sat a while. The dogs romped in the yard. The nuthatches, even more than the chickadees, flew in and out then perched on branches to dine.

My house is so filled with spiders’ webs it could be the setting for a black and white 50’s science fiction movie. The spiders are all babies, spiderlings. They link everything together with tiny webs. I carry a duster for the high webs and find my stocking feet work well in clearing the lower webs.

When I was a kid, I was never afraid of spiders. I remember some girls would scream and run as if a horde of giant spiders was chasing them, chasing their entrees. I might have had a spider bite, but it’s hard to know. The bites are tiny and red and don’t even hurt. The bigger webs are beautiful, like doilies crocheted into intricate patterns. My favorite web was at the end of the movie The Fly. The main character with his human head and fly body was stuck in a web and crying, “Help me. Help me,” because a spider was advancing with dinner on its mind. Two men, who knew what had happened, were watching. One grabbed a rock and killed the spider and the fly.

When I was a kid, I was exasperating. You probably will find this difficult to believe, but I had an answer for everything. My parents were not amused.

I have favorite places. Home is always at the top of the list. It is where I find comfort and warmth, where I can wear my cozy clothes and where I can sometimes eat out of the pan. Ghana is next. It is my other home. Other countries, Portugal and Ecuador, are also on the list. I have done amazing things I dreamed of doing when I was eleven, when I first promised myself I’d see the world. I stood in two hemispheres at the equator. I have ridden a camel in the Sahara. I have bargained in markets where I probably paid too much but still thought I was wonderful at haggling. I have ridden in a balloon, a helicopter, a glider and in wonderful old prop planes. I don’t know what will come. I just know I’ll find it wonderful and exciting. I always do.

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.