Today is hotter than it has been. It is already 81° and will get a bit higher, but the humidity is low making it a fairly pleasant day. The breeze is every now and then, but it is a strong breeze. I have nowhere I need to go today. I’m not even going to get dressed. I have a few chores in the house to do, and usually those lead to other chores so it could be a busy day. I hate busy days.

Oh! No! Last night I heard a chewing sound from the hall. Nala was beside me on the couch so for once she was innocent. It was Henry. He was tearing a box into small pieces. He was pulling a Nala. I’ll go crazy if he starts stealing things and sneaking them outside.

When I was a kid, my mother did everything around the house. She cleaned, did the laundry, made the beds and cooked all the meals. On cold school mornings she often made oatmeal or eggs. I loved her soft-boiled eggs. I was only a fan of oatmeal if it had milk and sugar on the top, lots of sugar. The oatmeal back then wasn’t quick-cooking oatmeal. I remember sometimes it boiled, and it looked a bit like lava bubbling in a pool. I had cocoa. My brother had tea. My mother used to put the bags in a tea pot and put the tea pot on the table. I always thought it looked fine, even elegant, having a tea pot on the table. My cocoa unceremoniously came in a cup.

When I was in Africa I had two eggs, toast and coffee for breakfast every day. That is the standard because wherever you stay still serves you the same breakfast. The eggs were fried in ground-nut oil, peanut oil. They had the most amazing taste. The toast was made from sugar bread sold everywhere by small girls carrying trays on their heads. It was delicious. You couldn’t buy butter, only margarine in a can. After a while, though, my taste buds never noticed the difference. It was the same with the milk. It was evaporated from a can.

I love mornings in Ghana. The roosters crow and greet the new day. You can smell charcoal fires as people cook their breakfasts. The air smells sweet. Women are sweeping using small hand brooms made from stocks of grass or branches. You can hear the back and forth swishing. They leave broom lines in the dirt.

Every time I visit Ghana, I love just sitting outside, drinking my coffee and taking in the mornings. They are filled with the sights, sounds and aromas of Ghana which are always a part of me, highlights in my memory drawers. They are a delight.