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The sun had just risen over the small town where I lived. The air was filled with a mix of fresh dew and smoke from the morning fires burning off the early chill of autumn.
I spent my days tending to the garden on the edge of town where I grew up, helping Mama with cooking for the locals who would stop by during their travels. Mama always had a warm smile and a kind word ready for everyone.
In the evenings I'd play my guitar under the porch light, singing along to the folk songs we'd learned from our ancestors. The music would carry through the streets until it reached the edge of town where it met with the night sky.
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