I want snow and cold. They will be cause for hibernation by the elderly whose cars will then lie fallow in garages for the season. Yesterday was the worst. I spent what seemed like hours behind a driver going 20 then up to a high speed of 25. The line of cars behind me stretched for miles. Finally the driver turned right and went through a red light to a parking lot beyond. I figured he thought the light was optional. I breathed a sigh of relief until I caught up with the car in front of me, a car from Florida. That one was going so slowly I swear two walkers passed it on the road. I even think one of them was using crutches. A detour did me in as every car had to go my way. The one in front of me put brakes on at every curve, however slight, and took my exact route home. The cars, again, were massed behind me. We could have been a parade.

Rain is expected starting today then through the weekend. The sun was bright earlier but is now behind the clouds. It’s warm. I stayed outside a while and checked out my front garden. The mums planted last year have blossoms. I saw white, yellow and  deep rust buds. My flowers are close to adorning the garden.

My daily life is almost back to normal. Last night I lasted until after 11 then woke up this morning at 7, the latest I’ve slept since my return. It is difficult to believe that a week and a half ago I was in Africa. Sometimes I even find it difficult to believe I actually lived in Africa, a place so different than here. When I’m there, every day seems perfectly natural: shopping in the market, greeting people in FraFra or Hausa, eating with my right hand and enjoying goat or plantain or rice with a few rocks, well, pebbles anyway, and constantly sweating from the heat. When I’m here, all of that seems more like a dream, something I conjured from a book I read or a movie I’d seen. But it isn’t: all of it is real, every wonderful day of my adventure.