It Doesn't Take Much
I came into this world with nothing. Growing up I had nothing. And so far I've got most of it left. In the beginning I didn't really grasp the reality of growing up in poverty, because at the time it was all I knew. It's sort of like someone who's born without an arm or a leg. If it's all you've ever known, you don't really see it as being that big a deal. You just learn to compensate, and carry on. I think you also learn to appreciate when something better comes along. In my early years I immersed myself in books. Having grown up on a farm, I didn't hang with a lot of the kids I went to school with. Books were my past time, and they were cheap. My mom used to tell me that when Christmas time rolled around, while the other kids got toys, I would throw a fit if I didn't get books. I don't remember back that far, so I don't know if she's correct or not. Since she passed away in '93, I guess I'll never really know for sure. But I digress from the main chain of thought. Simply put, having grown up with little compared to some, it doesn't take a whole lot to put a smile on my face, or to just give me a sense of contentment. While there might be those who have to have their designer clothing, their big houses, or fancy cars, I get along just fine with what has come my way over the years, and what has come my way was none of those.