Chapter 8
Winter turned out to be colder and wetter than any Nicky could remember. Of course my boy couldn’t. 2025, the year he’d been born, was the same year things began their downward spiral to desperation, with not only the summers unbearably hot, but the winters warmer than normal. It was sad, but I’d laughed it off by declaring the other members of our party were wimps.
“When I was a kid,” I began somberly. “Back in the Dark Ages, we had to walk to school through six feet of snow—”
“I know.” Nick laughed, unable to help himself. He knew what was coming. He’d heard me tease my children with this story too many times. “Uphill, both ways.”
I chuckled and pinched his chin, then laughed harder when I saw Ed’s puzzled expression.
“Six feet is way over a kid’s head,” he said unctuously
