Blog 8 - Those Winter Sundays

This is my attempt at paraphrasing Robert Hayden's "Those Winter Sundays" (Page 413):

"My father gets up on Sundays, just as every other day, and gets dressed in the dark cold. Without so much as a "Thank you", he started the fire to warm the home before I got up. Once all was warm, he called for me to get up, and slowly I would get out of bed and dressed. Without understanding unconditional love and the loneliness it can have, I talked to him without respect for all he did."