Today, the third Sunday in June, I share with you my loyal reader the first few paragraphs of …
To Love a White Man, the reality of roots
When it is all finished I will share (Lord willing) the final few paragraphs at
May all of our loving begin and end with HIM.
Snow stood still pushed to the side of black lots of tar in a constant state of melt. Piled high taller than buildings, the snow it is mingling and melting with dirt holding it in ever so close until all becomes as one.
I’m eight years old seated in the middle of the crowd turned around looking at it all like the wife of Lot. It’s my sister’s birthday, the twenty-eighth day of June nineteen hundred and seventy one. The forks are grand at gathering snow. For less than the cost of a noon day show we watch from the hot red lined back seat as the shinny black rambler rolls off.
Please NOTE: We have moved. We have a new address. We have a new location.
www.sonyamccllough.com Praise Time N Tennessee!