New Jersey was bitter cold.
Our blood was thinned
from the lazy hazy days
we spent in the South
and we were chilled to the bone.
But we were closer to Mom's family
and that made her happy.
When school started
me and the boys put on our coats
for the long walk down Morris Street
and by the time we got to school
our fingers and toes and noses and ears
were screaming bloody murder
because they were so cold.
We told Daddy we would have to have
hats and boots and mittens ASAP!
But it was already too late for me
because I got bronchitis
and coughed all the time
and was embarrassed to pieces by it.
On the good side
our parsonage was practically brand new.
The toilet worked.
The lights worked.
It had a modern kitchen
and bedrooms
and even an attic
which we hadn't had since we left Pittsburgh.
Our church was made of stone
and wedged between two other buildings
so that no butterflies
or bees ever knocked against the windows.
It was cold and damp in the sanctuary
and musty
and Daddy soon learned
that we couldn't keep the extra hymnals
in the basement
because they got moldy right away.
Our congregation was nice
but nobody brought us pie-er pies
or any other kind of pies.
We hardly ever saw any of them except at church.
Daddy said it was because it was just too cold
for them to leave their houses.
I missed having people we knew
strolling up the street
waving at us sitting on the front porch
or stopping by for a chat.
New Jersey was a cold damp dreary miserable place to be.
I didn't fit in at school at all.
I still wore dresses with puffy sleeves
pigtails
spit curls
socks
and loafers
plus I coughed a lot
in those rooms their hot dry air
and chalkdust
while the girls in my class
had haircuts called "bobs"
or "wedgies"
and circle skirts
and crinolines
and orlon sweaters with Peter Pan collars
and hose
and little colored shoes they called "flats"
and none of them had bronchitis.
I got a job at the Public Library
where I made 50 cents an hour to shelve books
by the Dewey Decimal System
and I worked on Saturdays
cleaning two houses
for a dollar per house.
After a while I was able to update my wardrobe
get my hair cut
and go to the Doctor
but it was too late.
Nobody at school wanted to talk to me
because they had already made up their minds
that I was too weird.
At first I cried about it
sometimes
in bed at night.
But I put a quick stop to that
because it only made my face blotchy
and my eyes swollen
at school the next day.
Not one night passed by
that I didn't dream about Winnsboro
and hot hot days
loafing on the porch
popsicles that melted instantly
warm juice to lick off my fingers
and my body all hot and sweaty.
If I hadn't had those dreams to keep me warm
I think I probably would have laid right down and died
it was that cold.