Summer 1988 Somewhere among the rolling hills of rural northwest Alabama, a little girl lies on a tattered blanket staring up at the sky. To her left an expanse of evergreen trees sway ever so slightly in the hot summer breeze, filling the air with its crisp scent and the gentle sound of rustling pine needles. Towering above her on the right, the ancient house with its long faded white paint and battered façade casts its long shadow over her. Ah, it must have been glorious in its prime with its long porches and rough black columns. But those days