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, who
was a neighbor, as he grew up. 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 the watch, he found these words engraved:
"Jack, Thanks for your time! -Harold Belser."
Jack was amazed and thought, "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,"
