The morning is cold and dark. As I was getting the papers, snow flurries began, but they lasted only a few minutes. My trunk is filled with trash, well mostly bags of kitty litter, but I’m still not going to the dump. I can see no reason to leave this cozy, warm house.

When I was a kid, Saturdays were my favorite days. In winter, the matinee was every Saturday afternoon. I went often. If the day was warm enough, I sometimes went ice skating. I could ice skate forward really well but not so much back. I remember how strange my feet felt when I took off the skates and walked with my shoes back on. I still have a pair of skates stored in the cellar. I’ve used them for outside Christmas decorations. They hang from a wooden sled with metal runners. I’ll not ever wear them again. For me, they might just be dangerous.

All of Christmas is gone from my house. The living room is dark, lit only by the candles which stay in the windows all year. I miss the color, the decorations, the lights of the tree and the whiffs of pine. They helped make my Christmas.

Henry never played with toys when he first became my dog. I don’t think he knew what they were. I’d throw toys down the hall so he could fetch them. He didn’t. I did. Yesterday Henry was playing with his hedgehog, the one sporting a Santa hat. He has also played with his new toy, his post Christmas Santa who sports a bathing suit and sunglasses. Right now my animals are in their usual spots for naps. Henry is on the couch beside me. Jack is upstairs on the bed where I assume Gwen is also sleeping. I think a nap might be a good idea on a day like today.

Today is downright cold. I raced to get the paper and yesterday’s mail. My plan is to go to the dump today though I’ll have to bundle up as the dump is cold and windy in winter. I always think it must be like the Russian steppes.

When I was a kid, my brother’s job was to empty the kitchen basket. He always complained because I didn’t have a chore. My father put the full barrels on the sidewalk and brought the empties in when he got home from work. Trash day was once a week.

My parents grocery shopped Friday evenings or Saturday mornings. My mother didn’t drive so she had to wait for my father to take her. I remember a full trunk filled with paper bags. We all helped empty it. After the shopping, we had cookies and crackers in the cabinet, but they went fast. My mother used to hide her favorite cookies. I remember she liked pecan sandies. We got Oreo’s but nobody complained. If you twisted the Oreos, you got two cookies.

Last night I had a huge cup of cocoa. I topped it with Marshmallow Fluff. I heated the milk first so the cocoa power would easily dissolve. When I was a kid, cocoa was my morning drink. My mother used to put some of the powder in the cup with milk, stir it then add hot water to fill the cup. She bought the Nestle’s Hot Cocoa Mix Bank. I remember the label was red and what looked like bank fronts were on it. I had one of those Nestle banks for the longest time, but then it finally gave up the ghost, got rusty on the top and the cardboard body gave out. I never had much money it anyway.

When I was in elementary school, one of us went up and down the rows once a week collecting money to adopt unbaptized Pagan babies. The Pagan babies lived in Africa. Every grade competed to be the top fund raiser, to save more Pagan babies than the other grades. I never questioned it. I wanted my grade to win. For Christmas one year, my sister gave me a small plastic collection box with a smiling black girl’s face on the top. She has red lips and dimples. Her name is Verite. It says so on the box. There is a coin slot. Inside the box is a piece of cardboard which says, ” The Sudaneer’s Pledge, A Nickel A Night for Africa’s Light. The Sudaneer’s Devoted to the task of getting the gospel to THE CHAD REPUBLIC.” There is also a small map of Africa with Chad highlighted. I don’t know where our Pagan babies were from except we knew it was Africa, a continent teeming with Pagan babies. Maybe it was even Ghana.