Re: Thanks for your Time

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: : THANKS FOR YOUR TIME : : 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 read. 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!" : : "Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take but by the : : moments that take our breath away," : : Thank you for your time..... : : Thanks to whobear, Threeflames, curlytop and Leggs for your time in teaching me. Hugs to you all : : -- Author Unknown : this is just WONDERFUL BIG GRINS HERE AND TEARS TOO : Thanks for your TIME in letting us Share : GOD BLESS EVERYONE : Whobear

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