Next Time
It was the best of times living on that little farm in Southern Georgia. We grew our vegetables and raised some animals for food and pets. We never knew that we we considered poor by some. We had love. Our stomachs was always full. We had warm beds most of the time. My father was a well digger and farmer. However, there was always a lack of money. Wisdom in finance was lacking. I often wondered why we had to pass all of those beautiful toys, dresses, shoes and etc. when we went to town. Mom would always say, come on kids, we will get it next time.
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Posted By: Esther Pinkston
Sunday, September 18th 2011 at 11:11PM
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