A bitter Cold Day

This is how Dickensian my childhood was. For some reason, living back in Georgia I have had some very distinct memories come back to me, I suspect as I grow older I will remember more. But, the sudden cold weather brought up memories of walking to school in Atlanta when I was 7or 8 years old. My mother would wake us sometimes, most times it was up to us to get up on our own, get dressed, eat something if we had anything to eat and head out on a trek that literally took almost 45 minutes. My brother and I walked through the woods across the street, we had figured out a shortcut. My sister was in High school at the time and I don't remember how she got to school, but I do remember she sometime

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