Keep the Coffee Comimg

Despite the blue sky and the sun, today is winter. It is only 35°, and, with the wind, it feels much colder. I’m glad I get to continue my hibernation. I only stepped outside this morning just to get my paper and yesterday’s mail. That will be it for the day.

Yesterday I was not a sloth. I vacuumed the whole downstairs, polished and dusted. Today I will recuperate.

When I was a kid, my weekdays were regimented. I got up at the same time every day, my mother being the alarm clock. Breakfast was either cereal, oatmeal or eggs, whatever my mother wanted to make. I always drank cocoa. I never had to choose my clothes for the day. I just put on my uniform. I walked to school. We had pretty much the same subjects every day at the same time except art and music which were less frequent. The times for lunch and recess never varied. At the end of the school day, we lined up to wait for the dismissal bell. I walked home.

The strange part of all of that was I was never bored because every day felt different to me. I got to meet up with my friends, learn new things and have afternoon adventures. Life was filled with possibilities. I always knew I could do and be anything.

In Ghana, my weekdays too were regimented. I had the same breakfast every day, two eggs, toast and coffee, bad coffee but I stopped noticing after a while. I did have a choice as to what I wore, but it was always a dress. I wore sandals. I taught four English classes every day. Lunch was cut up fruit. Dinner was yam and beef in a tomato sauce and sometimes roasted chicken, cooked over a small charcoal burner, my stove of sorts. During the afternoons, after classes, I read, planned lessons and sometimes napped. The only change was on market day when I walked to town to shop.

I was never bored in Ghana. How could I be? I was living in Africa. I was surrounded by the most amazing colors, smells and foods. I had Ghanaian friends, and I had my students who often visited in the early evenings. I was an oddity being white.

Now, I don’t care if I am busy. I don’t care if my days are similar. I am enjoying being a sloth most days. Life is still filled with possibilities.

The morning is sunny but cold because of the wind. The dogs have been in and out and out again. Nala was among the missing earlier. I went out and called her. She didn’t respond. That is unusual. I finally saw her in the back corner of the yard. She was standing in one spot with her head down, a sure sign she had something. I didn’t give chase. I know better. I went back into the house. She came in later.

My dance card is now pristine, empty, for the rest of the week. I have no uke, no appointments, no grocery needs, and I went to the dump Saturday. My house could do with a bit of cleaning. I guess I’ll vacuum.

Tonight spring makes its official arrival. The day may be chilly and the weather no different than yesterday’s but knowing it’s spring brings a feeling of warmth, a sense of change. Spring is the hopeful season. The world is its freshest. Drab winter is disappearing. The first colors are blossoming in the gardens. The crocus is leading the way. The daffodils aren’t far behind. The air smells sweet. The new grass is a deep green. The birds are loudest in the morning. They’re happy to greet the new day.

When I was a kid, once the days got warmer, the heavy coats, hats and mittens were put away until the next winter. Every day the afternoons stayed lighter so we got to to play outside longer, until the sun went down and the streetlights came on. My bike spent more time out of the cellar than in it. It gave me a sense of freedom. I was all over town. Sometimes I rode it to school. The bike rack was wooden and painted green. It was under trees by the fence close to one corner of the old school, the side with the back door. I never locked my bike. It was always there when school was over.