Page 10 - Homestead By Ann Newhouse
P. 10

My attitude towards him softened slightly when I saw him going every day to say words over her resting place. I loved going there first thing each morning and speaking to my mother and tending to her plot. It gave me the time and opportunity to begin to make plans. Things were now very hard. We had little to eat, although I had learned to make bread, but I couldn’t do much more. We were eating only vegetable soup most days. My father agreed for me to take the pigs in to town to sell. A butcher gave me a good price for them, so I bought some provisions and cheap whiskey. I also managed to save a little money for myself, to build a nest-egg for when I decided to leave. Some nights I got very upset, thinking how my father had treated and neglected my mother. I was still angry and wanted to hurt him. Most nights he slept in his chair snoring, after drinking his whiskey.


































































































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