The year is 1946. After the war ,World War Two, my family and i moved into the country. Since mom was fearful of the Germans or Japanese bombing, even though the war was over.

I am walking down the dirt road out by the fields. I’m exploring a bit as I'm a city girl and all this is rather new to me. However, my attention is peaked when I hear a “pst”.

I look up to see a boy, no younger than 16 walking his horse smirking “ain’t those shoes a little unpractical to be wearin out here” he says, with a thick southern accent