It had been some time since Kamau had seen the old man. College,
girls, career, and life itself got in the way. In fact, Kamau moved
clear across the country in pursuit of his dreams. There, in the rush
of his busy life, Kamau 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. Kiprop died last night. The funeral is
Wednesday."
Memories flashed through his mind like an old
newsreel as he sat quietly remembering his childhood days.
"Kamau,
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," Kamau 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," Kamau said.
"You know,
Kamau, after your father died, Mr. Kiprop 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," Kamau said.
As busy as he was, he kept
his word. Kamau caught the next flight to his hometown. Mr. Kiprop'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, Kamau and his Mom stopped by to see the old house
next door one more time.
Standing in the doorway, Kamau 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... Kamau stopped suddenly.
"What's wrong,
Kamau?" 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,'" Kamau said.
It was gone.
Everything about the house was exactly how Kamau 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," Kamau said. "I better get some sleep. I have an early
flight home, Mom."
It had been about two weeks since Mr.
Kiprop died. Returning home from work one day Kamau 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 Kamau 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.
 |
| Its all in the eye |
"Mr. Kiprop" it
read.
Kamau took the box out to his car and ripped open the
package. There inside was the gold box and an envelope. Kamau's hands
shook as he read the note inside.
"Upon my death, please
forward this box and its contents to Kamau. 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, Kamau 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:
"Kamau,
Thanks for your time! -Kiprop."
"The thing he valued
most...was...my time."
Kamau held the watch for a few
minutes, then called his office and cleared his appointments for the
next two days. "Why?" Shiru, his assistant asked.
"I
need some time to spend with my son," he said. "Oh, by the
way, Shiru... thanks for your time!"
