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Got Gloves

It wasn’t until I put my hands in warm water that they began to hurt like Hell!

I was no more than seven when I moved to the new house on 12th street. I attended the nearby elementary school and was so happy with my new friends and teachers. I didn’t even mind the mile long walk, which was filled with fun and laughter as we rang our neighbors doorbell and ran like the wind!

Winter came along and it was recorded as the coldest winter in twenty years. As much as I wanted to enjoy playing with my friends in the snow, I could only sit on the sidelines and watch. You see, because we were so poor, I had no gloves. My mom, seeing the sadness in my eyes, gave me a pair of my dad’s old socks to put on my hands. With such a kind gesture, how could I say no? But more importantly, how could I let my friends see me try to make a snowball with black crusty socks on my hands?

So I decided to take off the socks and made snowballs with my bare hands all day long …

Notes about the Author:
She now has a glove fetish and continues to buy gloves of all styles, fabrics, and colors and often thinks of donating them to poor girls who have none. NOT!

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