Journal #32: Memoir

It was a cold Winter's day. The thermometer read -12 degrees. I would have given anything to stay inside, but on this cold December day I had an obligation to fulfill. Today I was being made to go to the bread line downtown, where all of the homeless people went to eat. Like I said, I would have given anything, almost, to not have to go. I was woken up by my mother knocking on my door.
"Wake up Dalton! It's almost time to go."
It was only 8:00. I was still tired, and I had to wonder why I had to get up this early, on Christmas break. I didn't want to get up, but I knew if I didn't she would just come back and make me get up. I got out of bed, and limped to the bathroom to put my contacts in. I changed out of my warm pajamas into cold clothing from my dresser.
"Hurry up honey, we're leaving in five minutes." My mom called from downstairs.
"I'm coming" I yelled back. I put my shoes on and went downstairs, where my parents were waiting. We rushed out of the door and piled into the car. Of course it was freezing cold. We rode in the freezer for about fifteen minutes, until we arrived at the shelter, got out of the car, and went into the building. We passed the waiting line of homeless, shivering in the cold. They looked at my puffy coat hungrily. We went behind the serving counter, and started to prepare the food. The doors opened, letting in a frigid blast of arctic air. They filed in, and started to line up to get their food. They were in a sorry state. They wore thin jackets, gloves without fingers, and some even wore what were basically rags.
The look of happiness they gave me as I gave them food made me feel so good. I had given them hope, if not just for today. After three hours of working there we went back home, but not before going out to a restaurant to eat out. I felt bad for not wanting to go in the beginning. I went home feeling good about helping those with less fortune than I. I realized that there are many things worse than having to wake up early. I know how lucky I am now.