August 1997, it is now 6am. I am sitting on the porch awaiting for daylight so I can start my walk on the beach.
I was just reminiscing about when I was a little girl we lived in this big house in Cheshire Massachusetts.
We all slept upstairs, no heat in our bedroom, so if it was zero degrees outside it was about zero inside, but I remember we had big soft ticks over our mattresses. We would sink down it in and have a feather tick over us with many quilts on top. When we got up we would scurry downstairs and dress by the pot belly stove, that’s how I backed my little bare bottom to it and blistered it real good. I had to sit on feather pillows for weeks.
Related page: Page 18, Saturday night bath time
Sure didn’t write much in 1997.