As Time Goes By.

As Time Goes By.
pg.40 IN THE SUBURBAN PROMISED LAND
THE COUPLE WAS trying to hold on to their piece of the American Dream: a detached three-bedroom-one-and-a-half-baths house with a front yard and a back yard that allowed a view of the Pacific only blocks away. A picture window in the living room, with a view of hills covered with trees where deer grazed. They were now installed in their tract house in the new development, Paradise, a suburb eighteen miles from San Francisco where even utilities, transportation were a threat to their budget—the floor furnace in the tiny cottage had been so affordable. Now with the central heating it had tripled. Transportation! Could hardly afford to use the Olds. Gas was very expensive. A dollar for gas? Do we have dollar fifty?

OPEN MIC PLEASURES.

OPEN MIC PLEASURES.

Delighted that U joined David & I @ Florey’s last Thursday night. It was one of my best ever readings, with friends bringing friends, fillIing  up the place. Everyone cheerful, energetic, giving us their laughter, applause, buying our books. Many thanks 2 all.

READING & OPEN MIC!

You are invited to a READING. 

                by

Camincha & and David Hirzel 

Thursday April 17th
  

7:30 followed by Open Mic 

Florey’s 2120 Palmetto Ave 

Pacifica          650 355 8811

As Time Goes By.

As Time Goes By.

Ck out special prices. Also order in your own language.  

https://www.createspace.com/4353451

http://www.amazon.com/dp/1490939954

http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1490939954

Kindle version on Amazon.com: www.amazon.com/dp/B00EAENW7U

$9.ea. or less depending where U buy it.

Share it with friends & family, Oh! & strangers? Make new friends.

As Time Goes By.

As Time Goes By.

pg. 31

The holiday season found the home bound Porters enjoying—through Mimi and Etienne—tales of the streets, the stores and the weather. The baby’s delight in exploring lights, colors recreated for them memories of bygone days.

Then the phone call: Mr. Porter died in his sleep.

THE LITTLE FAMILY visited the widow often. The three story house was now cavernous, frightening in its emptiness. Mrs. Porter lost weight and the last few strands of gold in her hair went to grey and from grey to pure white in the first few weeks that followed her husband’s death. Her blue eyes also turned grey, opaque, lost the special light that had always shone in them. Mimi and Etienne made it a point to stay on when they visited, to accompany her at dinner as often as they could. One evening they became quite alarmed when they let themselves in assisted by the porch light and found her sitting in the living room in the dark. As their eyes became accustomed to the glow of the street light shining through the windows they saw her, hands folded on her lap, completely still. A fallen, wounded bird. As if coming out of a dream she smiled when she recognized them. Dinner is ready, she said. Seemingly ethereal, weightless got up and lead them into the dinette. The little table was set for two. Mrs. Porter had already started on her soup. Mr. Porter’s dish was full. His main course set on the side.