Those strange notes

As I type on my blog, I hear my wife singing in the kitchen. She seldom sings. But the strains of her song are clearly deep African-American spiritual music. Those notes are not notes I ever heard growing up. I was just writing her autobiography out we have been working on and writing about her time in Texas with her grandparents singing on the front porch of an evening those Baptist spirituals. And here it is.
We are going through some tough, alienating times right now, so I know where it’s coming from. Deep within.

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