Keep the Coffee Comimg

Today was supposed to be balmy, but the wind is strong so the morning is chilly. Rain is predicted.

My mother could sew. She made my senior prom dress, and it was beautiful. I can still see the pattern spread out on the living floor and my mother kneeling beside it to cut and pin the cloth to the pattern. She was nervous about it. She had never sewed anything as big as a dress. I remember that prom. During the late morning I went to the hairdresser. Most of the girls did back then. I got one of those tall dos with bit of a flip. My long time friend came down on the bus to be my date. During the afternoon it started to rain and the rain continued. We went with another couple. The prom was at the Chatham Bars Inn, a beautiful spot right across the street from the ocean. I carried a coat over my head in the rain to protect my hair and dress. The closest entrance from the car to the Inn was through the kitchen so we walked through it to the prom room which was beautiful. We had our pictures taken, we ate and we danced. It was the perfect evening. After the prom, we changed our clothes then headed to a friend’s house for an after party. We had a scavenger hunt. I remember some of it. One clue was in a cemetery. Another was we had to stop at the school principal’s house to find out his middle name. I still remember it was Adolph. That prom was 59 years ago.

I can’t sew so I tend to staple. I can cook. When I have company, I try new dishes, but I have favorite old dishes. Chicken curry is one of them. The first time I ate it was in Ghana at the house of a Moroccan doctor and his wife. It was so delicious with all the toppings that it quickly became a favorite. I remember the first time I cooked it myself. I invited friends, skeptical friends. I had toppings to soften the curry heat, toppings likes apples, pineapple, cashews and raisins. One of my guests took only a tiny amount of everything. After he tasted it, he went back and piled the chicken and covered it will all the toppings. He was my barometer of success.

Winter is still here. I have been hoping for a spring like day, but I’ll have to accept the disappointment. I did notice green shoots in the front garden. They are the start of my daffodils so I know spring is waiting in the wings. I’ll just have to practice patience and keep my fleece handy.

Nala makes a mess, several messes. She brings in pine cones and strips them then chews the core. She hauls in small branches and gnaws them into pieces. When she wants something from the toy basket, she pulls out every toy. They end up all over the hall. I am the cleaner. I am the maid.

When I was a kid, I had a bit of a plan for my life. I’d travel and see the world, but I had no places in mind. I just wanted to travel. I loved my town, and I loved roaming all over my town and even some towns around it, but I dreamed of more. My dreams did come true. I have always considered lucky in that respect.

Joining the Peace Corps was my biggest dream. I applied without telling my family because I knew my father would object. I decided to wait and tell him only after I was accepted. The time between submitting my application and hearing the result seemed endless. Just in case, I had a backup plan. I took the LSAT and was serious about law school if the Peace Corps fell through. I asked my father if he would help me pay for law school. He told me no. He told me law was not for women. I applied to schools anyway. After I had heard of my acceptance into the Peace Corps, I called my father and told him. He told me I couldn’t go. I told him I had already accepted. He was angry but only for a while. A month or two later, my father told me he and my mother had been talking, and he would be willing to help pay for law school. I thanked him but turned him down. I was onto his ploy to keep me out of Africa.