Steve drove down a lonely lane, a familiar lane, but not of recent familiarity. It was of times long past, from when a boy. There at the dead-end of the lane was a leveled pile of rubble. Trees, tall and stately graced and surrounded where once a house stood.
It was a reminder of good times, of pleasant times, of simple times. A time when he was the apple of his dad’s eye. A time before he father’s storm of doubt, failure, and rejection.
Beyond the trees and rubble was a newer home; ranch style and well-kept. Scattered in the nearby was construction equipment, a few sheds, a 250 gallon fuel tank and chained to it a barking pit bull raged.
Steve poked and kicked around the rubble of a vacant lot. He looked up as he heard someone…
View original post 1,243 more words