Last night I just couldn’t fall asleep. It was light out before I lost consciousness. When I woke up, it was after 11. I chose a leisurely morning to welcome a pretty day. I read the papers and enjoyed a couple of cups of delicious coffee. It is already 72°, close to today’s high. The sky is blue, but clouds are expected though not rain.

I was looking at the class picture for my Eighth Grade graduation. The original was left rolled so it cracked. I had a copy made and mounted. We are sitting in rows in front of the convent, which is no longer there. Father Sexton, the pastor, also no longer there, is sitting in the middle. The boys are wearing jackets and ties. Except for one girl, we girls are wearing pouffy dresses. I think that might have been the last time I wore a pouffy dress. I had my hands posed in front of me, obviously a directive from the photographer. One boy has his head turned. Most of the boys aren’t smiling. Some girls are smiling but more look solemn. I have sort of a half smile. I don’t remember that day so I am glad for the picture. I remember most of the eighth grade just not that day.

I always wonder why certain days and even certain moments stay bright in my memory drawers. Some seem consequential while others seem to be just regular days or simple moments.

I don’t remember the ride to Logan on the day I left for Philadelphia to go to Peace Corps staging, but I clearly remember looking back at my parents as I walked into the jetway. My mother Waved, a small wave. My father also waved but his was a bigger wave. I waved back and turned to walk onto the plane.

I remember one night in Philadelphia. I took my book and went to the top most floor of the hotel, sat with my back against the wall and read. I even remember the book, The Naked Ape.

I don’t remember how old I was, but I remember walking home after an afternoon of ice skating at Recreation Park. My skates were slung over my shoulder. My feet felt funny in shoes.

After Halloween hauls, I use to put my candy in one of the tulip bowls, a nesting set my mother owned. I kept the Bowl under my bed for easy access. Years later, I saw a similar set, all four bowls, for sale and bought it. It came with memories of one night a year.