My Family Met Up With The Bakers

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Six years ago, I was eleven years old with my face stuck in a huge book, my family met up with the Bakers. Dr. Baker was recently retired and was working on a novel. He was talking to my mom about how he wanted more reviewers for his book before publishing, and my mother-being so proud of me for reading a five hundred page book-recommended me. Once I finished the book, my mom drove me to meet him at a small café called Bear Moon Bakery. He bought our breakfast and a cup of coffee, I do not remember exactly what I ate, but knowing my sweet tooth, it was probably a cookie. We sat down at a little round table and I plopped his well-worn in book next to us already wanting to talk about it. It had taken me longer than usual to read it, because I was reading the next book in a series. I was eager to talk books with someone who loved writing them as much as I loved reading them. Something that has to be kept in mind, however, I was still eleven years old. I did not know that criticism was good if used right, I had a total of five years in elementary English to back me up, and I was talking to someone who seemed centuries older than I was; in other words, Dr. Baker was doing me a favor by making me feel special and important to his book.
My family was still reeling from a recent divorce, my dad did not seem to want to visit my sister or me, and we had to move; the moving part did not bother me, since I was raised in a military family, but this time we moved and my dad did not

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