It's Sunday. And lovely. And we traipse down an inviting lane fixed forever in memory where the sun always shines and Spring flowers bloom as we pass as if we are in a Disney cartoon. The birds are singing as our bare feet feel the softness and warmth of the earth and the air is fragrant with perfume of trees blossoming. Our hearts fill with love for all life. And we hear the dulcet intonations of a woman we know speaking softly in the distance and we burst into laughter so intense with pure joy that we collapse into a heap holding our sides from exploding rolling ourselves through the clover. This is our prayer answered.