1792

The walls were bookshelves with a variety of books on a variety of subjects - science, physics, medicine, and even though Henry didn't understand them he was still fascinated by them. His father spent way to much time in this office and not enough time with his family. Henry understood though, his father was a doctor, and he didn't always have time for them.

"Father, come play with us!" Four-year old Henry stood at the door with his mother by his side and a ball in his hand.

"Not now, Henry, I'm busy."

But that didn't mean that it didn't frustrate Henry.

"Father, would you like to help us build a fire?" The eight-year old boy stood at the door with a hopeful look on his face.

"Not now, Henry, I'm busy."

"You are always busy."

Sometimes he was reluctant to ask.

"We are going to the lake, I suppose you are busy?" Henry, now twelve years old said.

He rolled his eyes when his father nodded.

Even when his father preferred the company of stacks of books and notes, Henry knew his father still loved them and would always protect them. He just wished his father would step out of his cave every once and a while.

Henry sat in the wooden chair. It was old and worn from years of kids climbing on it and pushing it over. Henry ran his fingers over the frayed edges and smiled. Years of memories. The desk in front of him was home to many notes. Henry skimmed through some of them. They contained equations and formulas. Some had medical information. None of them held anything important enough to ignore your family.

Henry sighed and scanned the room. There were plants on the top of the bookshelves and a lantern in the corner. Because it was daytime, Henry had no reason to light it, but he stared at it for a minute. Something was strange about it. It was simply a silver lantern. A candle in the middle caged in by glass. That box - that box didn't belong there.

Henry stood from the chair. As he walked to the lantern, the floor creaked beneath him, proving the house was old. He was hesitant to pick the box up but something told him he should. His fingers brushed across the top of the box. A piece of paper with his name on it. Henry removed the lid and smiled widely. A gold pocketwatch. He recalled watching his father make this years ago, but he never would've guessed that it was for him. He was so intrigued by the pocketwatch that he almost missed the note that remained in the box. He picked it up with curiosity.

Henry -

I was not the best father to you but please know that I love you.

I have met my fate before I had the chance to watch you grow but know that I am proud of you.

I hope you grow into the man I always dreamed you would be.

Farewell, my son.

If his father was watching him from above, Henry hoped that he was the man his father dreamed he would be.