The morning is an ugly one. It has been raining, and the damp air is chilly. I’m wearing my cold day ensemble of a sweatshirt, flannel pants and fleece socks. My heat keeps coming on to keep the cold at bay. Today feels like a winter’s day.

I have a concert today, the second this week. I organized my music book last night. Next week we start practicing Christmas music. We’ll start our Christmas concerts in a couple of weeks. I love Christmas concerts.

My father used to say he wanted to come back in his next life as a pet in any of our houses. I’m sure my dogs would agree, but they are curled up asleep on the couch, and I’d hate to disturb them.

I mostly live in my den. The TV is here, my computer too. It is just a few steps to the bathroom and down the hall from the kitchen. My table here is huge, a metal table. Anything I need, except food, is within reach. Right now my computer is on my lap and my feet are resting on the tabletop. I’m watching a movie with resurrected dinosaurs wreaking havoc on an island paradise.

When I was a kid, there were certainties. Oreos came in only one variety. Televisions were black and white. Cereal, except for oatmeal, was loaded with sugar, but we put sugar on it anyway, especially on the sugarless oatmeal which was always lumpy. Boots had shoes inside. We only took a bath on Saturdays. Sunday was the big family dinner. The rest of the week we ate supper. Vegetables mostly came in cans. My mother grocery shopped once a week. We had three sets of clothes: school clothes, play clothes and church clothes. You never mixed and mingled except for the shoes and the winter coats. Fathers worked. Mothers didn’t. We were free roamers. Santa Claus always watched, and we tempted fate by being bad.

My life now still has a regularity. Most days start and end the same way. Only the middles are different, but not very different.