"Those Winter Sundays" hits home

Those Winter Sundays, the poem we discussed in class on Monday, is a wonderful poem that seemed very real to me. As I mentioned in class, as long as I can remember, we have always heated our class with a wood heater. I can remember waking up in the morning to the sound of Momma opening up the heater doors and putting wood on the heater so we’d (the kids) be warm when we got out of bed. It didn’t matter if it was raining or 16˚ outside, Momma would keep that fire hot so the house would stay warm. I have probably never actually told Momma thanks for keeping the fire burning, maybe because she never complains and never mentions it, it seems as though she does is out of love instead of out of duty.