Michael Martin Murphey's voice is pure as butter -- rich, satisfying, sustaining.
I see love-hungry people
I see them, too. I see me, hungry for love and for life. It is 1980 something in the kitchen of our restaurant. Mama and my little girl and Michael Martin Murphey's voice, rich as cream, while Mama made dumplings for supper.
If love never lasts forever,
Tell me, what's forever for?
Mama nodded as she worked, Amen, Amen.
She worked the flour and lard and milk, looking down, thinking, somewhere else.
My little girl and I were going on a picnic, packing a lunch for the Shot Tower at Fosters Falls, straight up I-77. It was summer, and the Queen Anne's lace softened the road's edge. New River rolled below us like forever, like all our days, all the days that had ever been and ever would be. The sunlight on the water reflected for years afterward.
Photo of New River at I-77 by Denise Coalson; used with permission.