Tuesday, May 10, 2022 Hear the Wind Blow

Down in the valley, the valley so low,
Hang your head over, hear the wind blow
Hear the wind blow, dear, hear the wind blow
Hang your head over, hear the wind blow

Most of you are humming that tune in your heads now. It’s the way I’ve ended most Skype calls with my mother for the last couple of years. I play it on the piano and sing the melody and more often than not, she rises to the occasion and squeaks out a little harmony. She can hardly see now, she can hardly converse, but music is still the language of her heart.

Roses love sunshine, violets love dew,
Angels in heaven know I love you.
Know I love you, dear, know I love you.
Angels in heaven know I love you.

When she is gone, I do not think I’ll be able to sing that song without weeping.

Angels in heaven know I love you, Mom!

I’ll delete this if I hear the wind blow down in the valley so low in the morning.