Wide Open Spaces

A shiver ran up my spine, Mama’s voice in my head, don’t count the crows, baby. You know why they’re called a murder. Don’t tempt fate. Let them tell it to the devil. 

Bashful Smile

Could this child be a relative, maybe a distant cousin with those blonde eyelashes like mine and that nose that looks like my son’s?  I don’t recollect any family in the Scott’s Run area but sometimes families traveled when a mine closed.