Last night was so very cold. The actual temperature was 27° but adding the wind brought it down to 17°. Today’s high will be around 35°, almost balmy. I’m looking for my sunscreen.

I have a concert today at the mall, songs of the 60’s. I will be playing my new uke, a Christmas present from my sister. I’m going to wear a tie-dye top I bought in Ghana, a band of flowers across my forehead, bead necklaces and my tie-dye Converse high tops. I’m thinking my ensemble screams 60’s.

When I was a kid, I never ate many fresh vegetables because there were few available, and I was not a fan of vegetables anyway. My mother tried to sway us by telling us veggies made us healthier and carrots helped us see better, especially at night. We didn’t buy it so she had to employ subterfuge. Fresh carrots were mashed and hidden in the potatoes, a grand deceit, and it worked, but I might have felt kinder to carrots by themselves if I knew they could also be in a cake. Peas and corn came in cans as did French green beans. Yellow and green waxed beans also made appearances. I always thought they tasted the same. We had mashed potatoes just about every week night and at Sunday dinner. I would still eat dinner with baby peas from a can, but I have come a long way. My carrots are no longer hidden.

My mother used to take us to visit family in East Boston. She didn’t drive so we took a roundabout route. First we walked to the square where we took a bus to Sullivan Square. From the bus stop at Sullivan, we’d walk upstairs to the subway. I’d stand as close to the edge of the platform as my mother let me so I could look down the tracks hoping to see the train. We’d board quickly and together in one car. My mother was always afraid we’d get separated. Her one rule was if we did get separated we were to get off at the next station and wait. We’d ride that first train for a bit before we’d get off at an another station where we could transfer to a different subway line, one to Maverick Square near where my aunt lived. We walked a short way from there. We followed the same route backwards to get home.

Snow showers are predicted for today, but I haven’t seen any. It’s cold. The snow crunches underfoot. The dogs are careful going up and down the backstairs, but the ice is almost gone on most of the steps. They run all over the backyard. When they come back inside, their fur and ears are cold. Nala likes going under the afghan on the couch. Henry goes upstairs to my, our, bed.

I was born in Stoneham, Massachusetts in a hospital which is now closed and derelict. I only went there one other time to the emergency room. I remember the bus from Stoneham to Medford used to go up the driveway and stop at a beautiful stone building. Student nurses lived there. I remember they’d come out to the bus wearing their uniforms including white starched hats. I was a candy striper there for a while. My mother made my pink and white uniform. I used to do things like bringing delivered flowers to patients. I always felt a bit official when I wore it.

In Bolga, my home in Ghana, there was a hospital a short walk from my school. I went there twice. The first time was just after a student had died. My school principal sent me there in the school lorry with a few FraFra students, members of her tribe, to bring her back to the school. I also went with my FraFra students to tell her brother. I just stood there as they spoke FraFra. Later, they told me that the custom is just to say she is quite ill, and the brother would know she had passed. The school carpenters made her coffin. At her dorm, her bed had been brought to the porch. It was covered in flowers and pictures. The students were crying and grieving. School staff picked up her coffin and carried it to all the places on the school grounds where she used to go. At each spot, the dining hall, the school block, her dorm, a libation was poured. Everyone followed the coffin.

We brought her to her village. Her coffin was carried by men from the village to her house outside the village proper. I remember watching them almost running as they carried her coffin. We all followed. She was readied for burial by the women. Her brother explained. All her hair would be shaved from her body. She had come into the world naked and would leave naked. She was wrapped in a tall grassy sort of mat and carried to the burial site beyond her house. She was buried in the same tomb as her parents as she was too young for her own burial site. Some naked men went down in the tomb to receive her and place her body. Her brother made sure I was standing in the front so I could watch the whole ceremony. I wished I was in the back.

I still vividly remember everything about that day.