Twisted years manipulated iron forged values that made me a success machine. I paid a tragic price, leaving my heart on the altar. Then one morning the prodigal child woke and realize what I had become.

I didn’t need the GPS. The red barn was the only signal I needed. She looked older, neglected, but she still stood. She greeted me without reproach, her sun-worn boards reached for me, offering me comfort I didn’t deserve...