Having lived in cities almost all my life, I always wonder how it is like to live on a farm. Here is a bittersweet and very funny peek I don’t think I would get anywhere else… oh, Miss Mo!!
Missouri was the name of my chicken. My mother raised chickens in the back yard.
Everyone had a chicken in the household. When their chicken was to be sacrificed, we would have a little party. I was happy at all the parties but my own. I cried and my mother hugged me and I was sad for a week.
My aunt bought me another one.