Not Exactly a Pony

 


As a young lad my father always wanted a pony. The family owned a summer house on the ocean with a fair–sized lot. The lot was at the edge of town with a sheep farm across the road from the house and a large field beside it. The main problem with having a pony was that the family’s main residence was in the city with no room for a pony.

After my mom and dad married and had my brother and me, they purchased the summer house from my father’s mother, my grandmother. After a complete remodeling and winterization, we moved from my mother’s parents’ property to the new house, I was about five years...



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