Laddie and I walked quickly. It was very cold.
There were mornings, growing up in a house so cold, I hated to get up. Today, here and now, I hated to get up because I kept the room colder for Laddie. He slept better, as did I.
Back to the past, I can remember Daddy building the first morning fire; the coals stoked the night before. There was always the smell of wood smoke on our clothes. Mother would be in the kitchen firing up the wood stove; when I smelled the coffee perking I would get up knowing the water in the kettle would be getting warm enough to take my bath. Bath meant washing off from a wash pan in front of the fire. Going to the bathroom meant going outside to the outhouse, in the cold as well as the heat. Mother would make my lunch, a sausage biscuit. Going through a drive thru and getting biscuits and sausage was not an option back then; ashamed that we were so poor that I couldn’t afford to eat in the lunchroom, I would hide behind the school building behind a tree to eat my biscuit. Sometimes, if someone saw me I would throw the biscuit away. What I wouldn’t give to have one of those biscuits and sausage now. McDonald’s would have stiff competition if Mother were alive and folk could stop through her kitchen for biscuits and sausage.
near-sighted I was; how immature.
P. S. As of this date 2011, there is one distance memory of this happening.