E-viri
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Dykeman, Wilma
Family of Earth, 09/2016Book Chapter
It was july the year I was six years old that the man came into our yard and gave us a foretaste of the years which were to come. My father was working in the ground beside the rows of pines he had planted, when the stranger came up the driveway. He had parked his bright new-model car in front of our gate and was walking gingerly over our bridge. He came even more gingerly along the gravel, then stepped off onto the clipped grass. His shoes were shiny like the car, sporty brown and white they were. I remember
