My mother didn’t bake pies. She said it was pointless with four children and a husband. All that work and it was gone in one meal. A cake and at least there would be some leftovers. She didn’t really like to cook. I asked her once if she could hire someone to either cook orContinue reading “My Mother Didn’t Bake Pies”
Tag Archives: childhood
Still Pretending
I became a writer because I love to pretend. I was an only child until I was almost five, and we lived on a farm seven miles from a town nobody (almost) has heard of. We had no TV, but we had books and I had an imagination. I often entertained myself my making upContinue reading “Still Pretending”