The rain has already started. It will be rainy all day, but the temperature will be warm, in the low 50’s. What a waste.

I have always loved Saturdays. When I was a kid, I could pretty much do whatever I wanted. In the winter, it was a movie, ice skating, bike riding in good weather or reading the day away. During the rest of the seasons, it was exploring, wandering with no destination in mind, sometimes by foot, other times by bike. I’d ride by the golf course looking for errant golf balls. I’d sit on a bench at the station in the next town over and watch the trains. I’d stop and pick blueberries in summer. I’d lie on my stomach on the grassy side of the swamp in spring to watch the tad poles dart through the water. I’d keep track of their progress. I remember when they developed legs. The legs looked long, almost like foal legs do. That memory came back to me when I first ate frog legs. I tried to imagine the reaction of my ten year old self at the idea I was looking at dinner as I was lying there on the grass watching the tadpoles. Disgust comes to mind. The only given on Saturday was supper, hot dogs, brown bread and baked beans.

I have an empty dance card. I’m happy about that. This has been a busy week. Yesterday was our third uke concert. Our next one isn’t until May 3rd in Plymouth.

I am watching another science fiction movie. This one is about total destruction of the Earth. It’s called Doomsday Prophecy. The Black Sea is gone. It just disappeared. New York was destroyed by earthquakes. Volcanoes have erupted. Never fear though. Our two heroes are on it.

I didn’t realize there is a limit as to how many lovely spring days we get in a row. This morning I found out the limit is two. It is a rainy, damp, chilly, uninviting day. I do need to go out, though, to a concert, the second of three in a row, and to get some dog food and a comforting Snickers bar.

Last night I had a flutternutter. The peanut butter was super chunky. The bread was soft. I was in sandwich heaven.

I watched Ice Quake, a B+ movie. In it, people died by falling in crevasses, being buried by snow and inhaling methane gas. The dog, Yeti, ran away from his humans and was running all over the mountain. He survived. Dogs usually do except for Old Yeller.

I am done cleaning for a while. The kitchen floor looked great for a couple of days, but now the paw prints are back. In the hall and den, the dust balls again stir when I walk by them. Cleaning is futile.

In the play Our Town, Emily has died, but before she takes her place among the dead, she gets to relive a day. She chooses her 12th birthday. She sees the town as it was and how young her parents look. She sees George who would become her husband. She finds the experience devastating and returns to the afterlife. She says, “Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it?”

I can answer Emily. I found an old, really old, aerogram I sent from Ghana, just a few months away from closing service. In it, I worry about going home, what I’ll do and what I’ll find. I also talk about Ghana and what I’d learned. I’m going to share some of this aerogram.

”I’m beginning to realize how lucky I am. This is the sort of experience that no one should or can do without. In a way it is a bit mind blowing. All of a sudden you’re awake to sounds, sights and feelings you never knew existed before, and it is the sort of experience you can never forget because you’ve tried to absorb every particle that you can so it can all be brought back whenever it begins to dim.” I figure I realized how wonderful and beautiful my life was, and those two years taught me to hold close to every day.

I still do that now, realize the joy in every day. I’d hate to miss anything.