The rain started last night. I heard it on the roof. It was a steady rain sounding almost like a single drop. It stopped sometime in the very early morning, but it just started again. The dampness has made the day chilly, in the 60’s. It is also quite dark.

The draining tube was taken from Nala’s leg yesterday. The vet thought the injury was looking good. She wagged her tail at everyone and their dogs in the waiting room, including another boxer. He was older, already a bit grayed. Nala with her cone has knocked down all sorts of stuff from shelves. Of course, they everything breaks. I’m in the clean-up business. Henry is still a bit nervous about the cone.

When I was a kid, we used to go to the drive-in on summer Saturday nights. The drive-in was in Burlington. We used to ride on Route 128 to get there. I remember our exit was right after the place which sold tractors and other equipment. That’s how I knew we were close. We always brought the snacks with us. My father would pop corn and put it into individual bags. He’d stop at the store for candy, mostly Hershey Bars. He made Zarex and put it in the tartan jug. He called it bug juice. He was in charge of filling the glasses. My mother always packed the aluminum glasses. They were different colors so we all knew which glass was ours. We wore our pajamas. Back then every kid did. At intermission kids would be at the playground, and every kid was in pajamas, robes and sneakers. I know I’ve mentioned before about my father and traffic, but it bears repeating. We always left before the end of the movie. My father dreads getting caught in traffic. We used to watch the movie out the back window as we left. We were the only car leaving.

When I was an adult and visiting my parents for the weekend, we went to the drive-in. My father popped corn and brought candy from the house. Old habits die hard. There were two movies. The first was Jeremiah Johnson, the mountain man. It starred Robert Redford. It was a good movie. The second movie, always the best movie at any drive-in, was A New Leaf with Elaine May and Walter Matthau. It was a wonderful, funny, warm movie.

I don’t know why I remember that night at the drive-in, maybe because it was my past brought into the present and just maybe because it was also the last time we went together to the drive-in. I think that made it memorable.

The morning is partly cloudy, which means partly sunny as well, and warm, a sort of dress rehearsal for tomorrow when it is supposed to rain. It is 76°, the high for the day. The air is perfectly still. Everything is quiet. I’m having my coffee and toast which I slathered with mission fig jam. It is a pleasant morning.

The Ryan household is getting back to normal. This morning Miss Nala greeted me when she figured I was awake. That was the first time since the vet’s and the cone. She also drank water from her dish, the first time I didn’t have to hold the dish. We go back to the vet’s today to have the drain removed.

I had a couple of years of French in high school and two years of Spanish in college. I also had four years of Latin. The first time I used my French was in Africa, in Togo. I was able to tell taxi drivers left or right and order food. I ate a lot of boeuf and pommes frites. I could haggle in the market. I could buy cigarettes and matches. In some stores, like the boulangerie, I just pointed at pastries which looked good. I used my Spanish traveling from Caracas to Rio. I remembered enough to get us from one place to another, order food and shop. I got better as we traveled. In Ghana I mostly used English, Ghanaian English.

When I was eleven, I made my vow to travel. I never once wavered. I traveled all over. I don’t think my eleven year old self would be surprised at that, but I do think my eleven year old self would be surprised I’d live in Africa. I’m still a little in awe of that.

I have never wanted life to be predictable. I wanted surprises. I wanted Frost’s less traveled by road. I don’t know where that came from. It has been part of me for most of my life. It made me different, not weird different, just different, though some may contest the not weird part.

I had a friend tell me when she heard I was going to Africa she wondered who does that. I always thought the answer was easy.