It’s a lovely morning here, in Mayberry. The sun is beginning to cast its offering in all of its spun gold glory. Critters scurry about, making ready for the day, as birds sing their song from the trees beyond my window. Further away, tree tops glow with morning light, the dew shimmering in the field that lies between.

I thank God for Mayberry. It is my saving grace…a blessed respite from a hard life, manifested in the lines on my face and the pain in my body. It took so long to get here; so long that I can’t remember. When you’re young, you imagine that your life will go a certain way, and you work so hard to make it so. But, storm clouds can gather before you even know they’re there. Suddenly, there’s a storm chasing you down, and you can’t run far enough, or fast enough, to escape it. Once it catches you, it’s for the storm to decide when it will take its leave. If you’re lucky, it finds a distraction and moves on. Sometimes, it decides to stay…