The isolated house on the small hill beside the river and the adjoining forest of dried trees standing far from one another as if at loggerheads, steamed in the pieces of winter dusted off the sky.

I fixed my gaze on the vast river that stretched far into the fog, a wonder beyond my young mind.

Tightening my grip on my backpack, I hurry to school, trudging through the snowy path that run through the forest.

“Good morning Mr. Patterson!” I greeted the bald head buried behind the open newspaper and head for my seat.

The teacher grunts his response, without looking…