Thanks For Your Time

THANKS FOR YOUR TIME: To everything there is a
season, a time for every purpose under heaven; -
Ecclesiastes 3:1
A young man learns what’s most important in life
from the guy next door. It had been some time since
Jack had seen the old man. College, girls, career, and
life itself got in the way. In fact, Jack moved clear
across the country in pursuit of his dreams. There, in
the rush of his busy life, Jack had little time to think
about the past and often no time to spend with his
wife and son. He was working on his future, and
nothing could stop him.
Over the phone, his mother told him, “Mr. Belser
died last night. The funeral is Wednesday.” Memories
flashed through his mind like an old newsreel as he
sat quietly remembering his childhood days.
“Jack, did you hear me?”
“Oh, sorry, Mom. Yes, I heard you. It’s been so long
since I thought of him. I’m sorry, but I honestly
thought he died years ago,” Jack said.
“Well, he didn’t forget you. Every time I saw him he’d
ask how you were doing. He’d reminisce about the
many days you spent over ‘his side of the fence’ as he
put it,” Mom told him.
“I loved that old house he lived in,” Jack said.
“You know, Jack, after your father died, Mr. Belser
stepped in to make sure you had a man’s influence in
your life,” she said.
“He’s the one who taught me carpentry,” he said. “I
wouldn’t be in this business if it weren’t for him. He
spent a lot of time teaching me things he thought
were important…Mom, I’ll be there for the funeral,”
Jack said.
As busy as he was, he kept his word. Jack caught the
next flight to his hometown. Mr. Belser’s funeral was
small and uneventful. He had no children of his own,
and most of his relatives had passed away.
The night before he had to return home, Jack and his
Mom stopped by to see the old house next door one
more time. Standing in the doorway, Jack paused for
a moment. It was like crossing over into another
dimension, a leap through space and time. The house
was exactly as he remembered. Every step held
memories. Every picture, every piece of furniture….
Jack stopped suddenly.
“What’s wrong, Jack?” his Mom asked.
“The box is gone,” he said.
“What box?” Mom asked.
“There was a small gold box that he kept locked on
top of his desk. I must have asked him a thousand
times what was inside. All he’d ever tell me was ‘the
thing I value most,’” Jack said.
It was gone. Everything about the house was exactly
how Jack remembered it, except for the box. He
figured someone from the Belser family had taken it.
“Now I’ll never know what was so valuable to him,”
Jack said. “I better get some sleep. I have an early
flight home, Mom.”
It had been about two weeks since Mr. Belser died.
Returning home from work one day Jack discovered a
note in his mailbox. “Signature required on a
package. No one at home. Please stop by the main
post office within the next three days,” the note read.
Early the next day Jack retrieved the package. The
small box was old and looked like it had been mailed
a hundred years ago. The handwriting was difficult to
read, but the return address caught his attention.
“Mr. Harold Belser” it reads. Jack took the box out to
his car and ripped open the package. There inside
was the gold box and an envelope. Jack’s hands
shook as he read the note inside.
“Upon my death, please forward this box and its
contents to Jack Bennett. It’s the thing I valued most
in my life.
A small key was taped to the letter. His heart racing,
as tears filling his eyes, Jack carefully unlocked the
box. There inside he found a beautiful gold pocket
watch. Running his fingers slowly over the finely
etched casing, he unlatched the cover.
Inside he found these words engraved:
“Jack, Thanks for your time!
Harold Belser.”
“The thing he valued most…was…my time.”
Jack held the watch for a few minutes, then called his
office and cleared his appointments for the next two
days.
“Why?” Janet, his assistant asked.
“I need some time to spend with my son,” he said.
“Oh, by the way, Janet…thanks for your time!”

Copyright © Emmanuel Dickson | Year Posted 2016

Please Login to post a comment