21/07/2025
It had been years since I'd seen Ben. Life, as it often does, had pulled us in different directions after college. He'd moved out of state, and our calls had dwindled to sporadic texts, then nothing. So when I saw him, sitting at a table in my favorite quiet coffee shop, sipping a latte as if he’d been there all along, my first reaction was pure, unadulterated joy.
"Ben!" I practically shouted, crossing the room. He looked up, that familiar, slightly lopsided grin spreading across his face. He hadn't aged much, maybe a few more lines around his eyes, a touch of grey at the temples, but the same warm, knowing gaze.We talked for hours, catching up on the lost years. He spoke of his new life, a quieter existence, and then, with a particular fondness, he started describing his house.
"UncleB, you wouldn't believe it," he began, leaning forward, his eyes bright. "It's exactly what I always wanted. A pale yellow, almost cream, with dark green trim, the kind that looks like it's been there forever. And a proper red-tiled roof, the sort you see in old storybooks. There's this massive oak in the front yard, its branches like welcoming arms, shading the whole place.
My study, it's got a bay window that looks right onto it. I spend hours there, just watching the leaves."He went on, detailing the wraparound porch where he had his morning coffee, the way the sunlight hit the kitchen in the afternoons, even the specific scent of the honeysuckle by the back gate. He described the quiet neighborhood, the friendly older couple next door, the way the streetlights cast long shadows in the evening.
His voice was calm, almost serene, a peacefulness I hadn't often heard in him during our college days. He gave me the address, urging me to visit anytime. "Just drop by," he said, "I'm always there now." A few weeks later, a free Saturday opened up, and Ben's invitation echoed in my mind. I decided to surprise him. I plugged the address into my GPS, a pleasant anticipation bubbling within me.
The drive was longer than I expected, taking me to a quiet, tree-lined street on the outskirts of town. As I turned the final corner, my breath caught. There it was. The house. Pale yellow, with dark green trim, just as he'd said. The red-tiled roof, the massive oak dominating the front yard, the bay window on the side, and yes, the wraparound porch. It was exactly, precisely, every detail, as Ben had described it.But something was wrong. Terribly wrong.
The lawn was overgrown, wildflowers pushing through neglected grass. The paint, though the right color, was peeling in places, exposing raw wood. And leaning against a faded porch pillar, almost hidden by a climbing vine, was a weathered "For Sale" sign..
My heart sank, a cold dread creeping in. Had he moved again? But why the sign? I got out of the car, my steps hesitant. As I approached the porch, the front door, though closed, looked like it hadn't been opened in months.
A woman was tending to her roses in the yard next door. I walked over, my voice feeling strangely hollow.
"Excuse me," I began, "I'm looking for Ben. Ben Carter. He lives here, or... used to?"The woman straightened up, her face kind but etched with a familiar sadness. She looked at the house, then back at me. "Oh, dear," she said softly. "You must be a friend of Ben's. I'm so sorry. Ben Carter... he passed away last year. Almost exactly a year ago, actually. A sudden heart attack. His family sold the place not long after. It's been empty ever since.
"The words hit me like a physical blow. A year ago. He'd been dead for a year. The quiet peace in his voice, the way he'd just appeared at my table, the serene focus on his house, his insistence that he was "always there now." It all clicked into place with a chilling, sickening certainty. I stood there, staring at the house, the sun glinting off the very bay window he'd described, and realized I hadn't just been catching up with an old friend.
I'd been given a final, lingering farewell from someone who was already gone. The house, so vividly described, was a memory, a ghost of a home, just like the friend who had told me about it.
I'm UncleB 💜💜
