"" "The Winter Sundays" is a poem we have recently read in class. ... The poem is about a boy who lived his life poorly and is now about thirty years older and looking back. ... A few were, not taking life for granted, appreciating what you have and many more. ...
Against the back wall stood a gigantic stove. ... The sounds of pots boiling, skillets frying, and ovens baking echoed in this kitchen Sundays. When attending my grandmother's Sunday dinner we pecan pie that taste delicious. In my grandmother's house Sundays were called taste tester days. ... All the frustrations that were brought into the kitchen, immediately disappeared after taking the first bite in her food. ...
They only go back to their previous level of happiness when their children grow up and move away. ... People spend the third Sunday in June honoring their fathers almost a century later. ... Parents are obligated to taking care of the children; nature won't have it any other way as it was long ago written in our DNA. ...
He would leave Sunday afternoon, gone for the whole Monday, back Tuesday in the evening to shower and eat, then leaves Tuesday night for Los Angeles again. ... My role as the oldest took the responsibility of taking care of my younger siblings. ... For those who are selfish and are ungrateful should really sit back and think how blessed they are to be more fortunate than others. ...
