Moments later, she walked through the front door, set down her bags and waited. The house was still, quiet, unnervingly so. Slowly, Helen walked throu...h the living room and into the kitchen, where finally the gentle hum of the refrigerator disturbed the silence. So much was the same. Anthony and his wife had kept many of the same decorations and knickknacks that were left when Helen’s parents left the ranch. Yet here and there, something was new or different. Rearranged. Oddly, the differences. But more importantly, I meant it as a remembrance of our time together. Inside the front cover I had glued a picture that mom had taken years ago with the two of us leaning over the edge of our tree house when we were only around 6 or 7 years old. Of course that tree house was long gone now, and the newer one we had built on stilts was also nothing more than a couple of wood posts rotting away in the ground."Oh Mikey," she said, "This is the most perfect gift ever!" I'm glad you like it," I. More

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