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14. Mess Hall


First we ate in the mess hall as a family. Later we ate separately, with my dad working and my sisters and brothers choosing to eat with their friends. If I couldn't find Mary and her mom to go with, I'd stay in the barrack feeling sorry for myself. When I would whine and complain, my sisters would say, "You're not a baby any more, you're nine years old." They were right, and I began to grow up.


© Copyright 2004-2005 Chizuko Judy Sugita de Queiroz. All rights reserved.
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