Dear Dean,
If you are reading this, that means my time has come. I will not burden you with the pains of an old man long beyond his days. Only show my appreciation of the boy you once were. Remember the times when you used to be home all day for the holidays? I never let you know how much you had helped me recover. A boy had no business being that close to a recovering alcoholic, but I will always be grateful for the distractions that you provided me with when you came on over to my porch. All the long cold mornings spent sitting on my chair freezing my knees, watching the falling maple leaves, and just having you listen to what I had to say was enough. Sometimes all one needs is a willing ear. I know I wasn’t the easiest person to deal with, but trust me, I have seen one too many youngsters make a mockery of my life. I will not have the years I spent in the army become someone else’s history project. As I know you didn’t. 
Even when you grew up and no longer thought it ‘cool’ to sit on this old man’s knees, I knew that at least you would mourn me if I ever met my imminent end. I stared at the empty spot you used to sit on; I felt a tingle of much needed warmth from the memory alone. I never told you this, but I heard your friends teasing you for talking to the ‘grouchy bat’. Coincidentally, this was when you stopped coming back. I don’t blame you. A boy needs people his age around him. But listen to me this one last time. Listen as closely as you listened all those years ago, when I told you about one battle or the other.
When you are as old and grey as I am nothing else matters. Now as a young man you are the master of the universe. But soon, that will fade as fast as the rapids in the rivers.  Soon your back will ache and your knees will creak. Your children will leave you for the senile old man you will become and your wife will wait in the afterlife. But even then, don’t waste the time that you have. Don’t spend it drowning in alcohol as I did. I always knew my body would betray me, but you still have time to change. So do it and be whatever you want to be.  Do whatever you want to do, and for god’s sake don’t look so glum!
Your Humble Neighbor
The Major

Tears splashed on the paper, the envelope that had delivered it forgotten on the coffee table. Dean, now with streaks of gray in his hair re-read the letter for the billionth time. His once bright curious eyes were now filled with the silent levity that only age could create. Yet in his mind, he still could see the retired man with his childhood eyes: back ramrod straight, silver hair always in a crew cut, and expression as severe as the day he was discharged. His countenance was always impressive regardless of the missing right arm. He was never a cripple.

Dean had missed the funeral only recently concluded. The same porch that had filled his eyes with awe and wonder as a boy was right across the street; the chair was empty, the coffee mug abandoned beside it on the ground. The maple leaves still swirling around the air as they settled on the once immaculate doorway. Dean’s eyes filled with tears once again. The wind swirling just that bit harder, as if to say “Don’t look so glum!”  Another moment of solemn silence was broken by a deep sigh. Dean pushed himself up, only to find his hand in contact with something unfamiliar on the coffee table. He saw that he had previously overlooked a tiny bulge in the envelope. His fingers fumbled with the paper top, and encountered metal. When a little fumbling revealed a set of rusted keys in the palm of his hands, his throat clogged up again. The note attached was simple: to see your dreams fulfilled, the house is yours.