The Life of a Boy
When I was young, I was a farmer boy who worked with his father. I would milk the cows, and feed the   chickens daily, and would go to my mother’s every weekend. Father and Mother had gotten into a divorce 2 months ago. That’s why I go to each of there abodes separately. My mother lived in the city parts of Georgia and my father lived in the country parts. When I was with my father, I would go have some oatmeal for breakfast with a glass of purified cow’s milk. Then, I would say bye to my father and grabbed my backpack and then went out the door to start walking to school every day, after I had finished my chores promptly and come back at 4 o’clock every day. I would then go home and see my father cooking the chicken eggs I had collected that day. We would then enjoy some fried eggs and some and some tomato soup, that I received from my mom when I left for my fathers home. When I was with my mother, I would go down to the Georgia Park at 11:00 every morning and would and would get some lunch with my 3 friends; Max, William, and 5-year-old Tommy. We would then go to the Georgia Grocery Store to see if there was anything we could help out with. After a day of my routine on the weekends, I would go back home with the dinner on the table, ready and served. It would usually be something simple like a sandwich or some chicken noodle soup, since my mother wasn’t very wealthy at the time. With my plate clear and my stomach full, I would go get into my pajamas and read my book for 45 minutes and then my mother would come in and tuck me in and I would go to sleep.
And then the next day…