Yesterday’s rain storm was tremendous but by early afternoon the sun had returned as if it hadn’t rained at all. This morning is beautiful with a bright sun. Everything seems to shine. The air is filled with the melodies of birds. Today will be in the 70’s.

Sometimes I remember singular moments. My mother had a picture of me from when I was around four or five. I am wearing my Easter coat, hat and gloves. The picture is in black and white. We were living in an apartment building in South Boston. I am standing in front of the steps. The brick can be seen in the background. I look a bit shy in the picture. I remember our neighbor asked to take a picture of me in all my finery. It embarrassed me a bit.

One summer I was sitting on the back steps. It was early evening. All the screen doors of the houses facing the hill were open. I could hear muted voices and a few TV’s. It felt comforting somehow.

Staging is when Peace Corps trainees get together before leaving the country to meet each other and for last minute details. My staging was in the Hotel Sylvania in Philadelphia. The hotel had a very tiny lobby with a table and a few chairs. Around the corner facing the desk was a bank of pay phones. I remember standing in line to check in. I remember where the elevators were. I remember returning to the hotel after being out for a bit. I sat on one of the chairs in the lobby and read a newspaper someone had left. On one page was an announcement that Judy Garland had died. For some reason I remember that moment.

The first time I saw The Wizard of Oz was at a Saturday matinee. I was probably nine or ten. I didn’t know anything about the movie. I had never read the Oz books. I remember when Dorothy landed in Oz and everything was in color. It was jaw dropping wonder.

I remember my mother sitting in the chair by the picture window, and I was beside the chair. She had a stuffed animal with a long piece of ribbon around its neck. That was when she taught me to tie a bow. I can still see her fingers making the bow over and over. My first bows were clumsy looking and didn’t hold. When I finally tied a bow which held its own, my mother clapped.

My life has been a series of adventures made up of singular moments.