The Importance of Time

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>The Importance of Time > > A young man learns what's most important in life from the guy next door. >It had been some time since Jack had seen the old man. College, girls, >career, and life itself got in the way. In fact, Jack moved clear across >the country in pursuit of his dreams. There, in the rush of his busy life, >Jack 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.. Belser died last night. The >funeral is Wednesday." > >Memories flashed through his mind like an old newsreel as he sat quietly >remembering his childhood days. > > "Jack, 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," Jack 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," Jack said. > > "You know, Jack, after your father died, Mr. Belser 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," Jack said. > > > As busy as he was, he kept his word. Jack caught the next flight to his >hometown. Mr. Belser'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, Jack and his Mom stopped by to see >the old house next door one more time. > > Standing in the doorway, Jack 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....Jack stopped suddenly. > > "What's wrong, Jack?" 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, '" Jack said. > > It was gone. Everything about the house was exactly how Jack 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," Jack said. "I better >get some sleep. I have an early flight home, Mom." > > It had been about two weeks since Mr. Belser died. Returning home from >work one day Jack 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 Jack 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. > > "Mr. Harold Belser" it read. > > Jack took the box out to his car and ripped open the package. There inside >was the gold box and an envelope. Jack's hands shook as he read the note >inside. > >"Upon my death, please forward this box and its contents to Jack . >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, Jack 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: > > "Jack, Thanks for your time! -Harold Belser." > > "The thing he valued most...was...my time." > > > >Jack held the watch for a few minutes, then called his office and cleared >his appointments for the next two days. "Why?" Janet, his assistant asked. > > > >"I need some time to spend with my son," he said. "Oh, by the way, >Janet...thanks for your time!" > > > >"Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take but by the moments >that take our breath away," > > > >Think about this. You may not realize it, but it's 100% true. >