Yet the truth about an individual does gather itself eventually. We have seen it happen over and over, for good people, and those not so good.
My God it’s cold here in the winter!
Ten thousand lakes, and they’re all frozen.
When you grow up in a big family,
You have a birthday about every other month.
Every other month you say, “Happy Birthday!”
Our Last Summer I can still recall our last summer I still see it all In the tourist jam, round …
“Goodness, you’re hungry,” she remarks. I crunch on an apple with a smile, glad she does not inspect my clothes too carefully.
So my mom and dad exchange letters and postcards while my dad tours around Europe for a few weeks. When he returns to the Netherlands to catch his boat home, my mom sees him off. She was only twenty-two years old that summer, he twenty-three.