I apologize for yesterday. It was Patriot’s Day here in Massachusetts, and it’s the day I work the marathon. The alarm jarred me awake at 6. That may not sound early, but for me, it’s the middle of the night. I had a quick cup of coffee and read the paper then left at about 6:40. As usual, I parked at Quincy Adams and took the T to Boston. The day was breezy and chilly. Even in the tent where I worked, it got mighty cold. My job every year is to set up lunch then feed the volunteers who work at Copley because once inside the barriers, there’s no leaving so lunch is a necessity. I was at the back flap of the tent and for the first time I heard the bells ring when the winner crossed the finish line. I didn’t see him, but hearing the bells was almost as good. My job is finished by 12:30, and I don’t hang around. I was home by 2:20 and went right upstairs for a nap. I was exhausted.

Today is cloudy and surprise, surprise, it’s supposed to rain. I have a bunch of errands to do so Gracie and I will hit the road when I’m finish here, rainy or not. I have a list! The bird feeders are empty again, but I have seed so if the rain holds off until I get back, I’ll fill them. I miss my morning birding.

This is April vacation week here for kids. We never did anything special when I was young but not going to school almost seemed special enough. When I was an adult, my parents and I usually went to Europe for the week. I’d pick one country, and they’d happily come along. They were great travelers. My favorite trip, though, was when my sister came too. We went mostly to Belgium  though we did stay in Holland a couple of nights. I was the driver, and I won’t ever forget driving in Holland. At some body of water we needed to cross, I had to get the car on a ferry by lining up the wheels with the two pieces of wood used for loading. That seemed easy compared to the other memory forever etched into my brain: driving beside that dike. A truck was off-loading sheep at the other end of the road and was taking up most of the road. The driver waved me to one side of the road with not enough room for the car.Two tires were on the road and two were in the mud along the side of the dike which put the car at an angle. I swear no one was breathing as I held on to the wheel with all my strength to keep us from sliding into the dike water. I remember the sound of exhaling when we got to the end of the dike road.

We visited many WWII sites, and my dad was thrilled. We spent a night in Bastogne, ate at the hotel where officers had stayed during the battle of the Bulge and visited the museum. As we were leaving, we saw the sign just out of town which indicated where the Germans had advanced. It was right out of the town. We stopped in the Ardennes and saw lines of tank traps looking like teeth though many are now hidden by the encroaching woods. It was an amazing trip.

I cherish the travel with my parents and the memories we made. I call them to mind often and still can see the whipped cream on my dad’s face from the special ice coffee in Vienna and I’ll never forget the smile he made when he first tasted it.