When our parents passed away, they left properties for their sons to divide, including their childhood home. While Aaron wants to sell the old house, Ian decides that there’s something special to it and claims the house, hoping to renovate it to its glory. As he and his wife, Laura, renovate the house, they find a note from Ian’s father, taking them to a box hidden beneath an oak tree in the garden. The content of the box changes everything…
Of course, when our parents died, my brother revealed his true materialistic colors. Following their death, we inherited some property, including two houses. One house was where our parents lived during their last years, and the other was the run-down house where we grew up.
Our dad was a sentimental man, and despite our attempts to convince him to sell the old place, he always refused, hoping that one day, we would renovate it and raise our families there, just like he did.
“It’s a great place to raise a family, boys,” he would say.
When he died, my brother, Aaron, insisted we sell the old house and split the money.
“Come on, Ian,” he would say. “Just go with it. We can do so much more with the money than trying to sort that house out.”
But I couldn’t do it. That house meant something to my father. And it was his greatest wish to save the place, so I chose to keep the old house while my brother, thinking I was foolish, took the new one.
As time went on and my wife, Laura, and I began to renovate the house, it finally dawned on me that there was so much work to be done.
“I don’t know if I made a mistake with this,” I told Laura when we went back to our apartment and made sandwiches in between the renovations.
“No, Ian,” she said. “This was your father’s wish, and we need to honor it. It’s going to take some time and effort, but it will be worth it.”
I nodded and helped myself to a beer to calm my nerves. Everything was going to be all right, I just needed to trust the process and believe in the vision that my father had.
It turned out that a piece of faded wallpaper would change everything.
One day, as Laura was out choosing tiles for the newly refreshed bathroom, I was pulling out the wallpaper in the upstairs bedrooms. As I ripped it piece by piece, I found a message from my father.
There, clear as day beneath the wallpaper was a message saying that whoever finally renovated the house, restoring her to her beauty, should go to a specific spot in the garden and dig up a box.
“What? Are you sure that this is from your father?” Laura asked me when she came back to the house, fast food in her hand.
“It’s his handwriting,” I confirmed. “So, do you think we should go into the garden and look?”
Laura read the message, her eyes widening.
To my children, the ones who see the value in the past, go to the old oak tree in the garden and dig. You will find something that will help you restore this home and carry on our family legacy. Love, Dad.
“We’ve got to find that box,” Laura said, determination in her voice.
We grabbed some shovels and headed out to the garden, our hearts racing with anticipation.
The old oak tree stood tall and majestic, just as it had when Aaron and I were kids. My wife and I began to dig at its base, the soil giving way easily beneath our shovels.
Finally, I hit something solid. Carefully, we unearthed a small, weathered box. Inside was a stack of papers.
Reading through the documents, I felt tears in my eyes.
Leave a Reply