Rain last night and cold, in the 30’s, predicted for tonight. Such are the vagaries of spring in New England. I just noticed a patch of sun trying to break through the light gray clouds. Go sun!!

The house we lived in on Cape Cod was far bigger than the house before it. My brother and I had our own rooms on the first floor while my sisters shared a room across from my parents on the second floor. The washer and dryer were in the kitchen because the house had only a dug out cellar with a bulkhead entrance in the backyard. A block from our house was the pond, a huge swimming pond with fish and turtles. My sisters sneaked over and swam at night when my parents were sleeping. My father would sometimes spend a bit of time fishing when he got home from work. The fish were small, but it was the fun of fishing my father loved. During the winter, I’d have to walk on the sidewalk along the pond’s edge to get to school. The wind whipped across the water, and it was always the coldest walk. My brother used to sneak in and out of the house through his bedroom window. I never did. When relatives came to visit, my bedroom became the guest room, and I’d have to sleep on the couch. I always hated that. My aunt and uncle came often. They used to bring Italian pastries which we loved and my cousin Bobby, whom we didn’t love. He was rude and obnoxious. My mother told me I punched him in the face once because he wouldn’t stop harassing me no matter how many times I asked him. I don’t remember hitting him, but I suspect there was a feeling of satisfaction. My aunt and uncle stopped bringing Bobby, but they still brought Italian pastries. The house, like most houses on the Cape back then, was never locked. When my parents moved, they couldn’t even find a door key.

It was when I was in the Peace Corps and my brother was in the army that my father got a promotion. His company transferred him to Boston and the family moved. My father joked he wasn’t sending either of us a change of address.