It had been several years since I had been back to the neighborhood I had grown up in. My job had taken me several hours away. Although the job paid very well and I had thousands of dollars in the bank, I felt like I had missed something. There was an emptiness that I couldn’t explain.
Pulling into the driveway of my old house, with a brand new BMW, I noticed that the house needed a good paint job, the bushes needed trimmed, the grass needed cut, and dirt and ruts had taken over where gravel used to be. Stepping out of the car, I grinned as I looked at the front screen door that was now hanging loosely in front of the wooden front door that needed to be sanded down and refinished. The last time I had stepped through those doors, Uncle Frank was giving me a hug and saying goodbye, as I headed off to college. I had always expected to come back but, one thing led to another, and the next thing I knew I was starting my career a few hundred miles away.
Walking up the crack infested sidewalk, I pulled the house key out of my pocket. It was strange seeing the house like this. My uncle always kept the yard and the house so neat. He wrote to me a number of times when I was in college and after I had started my job. The last letter, he sent a few months ago, said that he was moving out of the house. The memories were too much for him and it was time for him to start a new chapter in his life. Enclosed was the key to the house and a note that said my parents wanted me to have this house when I was old enough.