The sky opened and the rain fell, all night into this morning, and I drifted off to sleep listening to the sounds of the rain. The storm was quixotic. The drops sometimes pelted the roof then they’d fall gently, in almost a whisper. Today is quiet, the way it is after a storm; only the birds break the stillness.

It was one of those guess the day mornings. I could have sworn it was Saturday, but a quick review of the last few days brought me back to Friday. I had no plans for the day, whatever it was. The house is clean, the larder filled, and I have some books from the library. I think my world is just about perfect.

Most times we didn’t get homework on Fridays. I guess it was the nuns practicing charity. Every other day of the week, though, found me at the kitchen table in the afternoons right after school. I liked to do my homework right away so the rest of the day could be mine. I never moaned about getting homework. Somehow I understood it to be my lot in life, and it never took much time when I was in elementary school to do a few arithmetic problems or learn some new spelling words. I was quick and out the door in no time.

At the end of the year when I was in the third grade, I got three ribbons for excellence: one for spelling, another for religion and a third for English. I still have them upstairs in a scrapbook. The ribbons were homemade by the nuns, and each had a pin on the back so I could proudly wear them. They were the first prizes I ever received, and I wanted to save them forever. I’m still working on that.