It was late when I found the abandoned homestead.
The sunset filled the sky with colors until the night came and awakened the stars. I could see shadows and hear the whispers of the ones that were left behind.
My boots sounded loud as I walked across the porch. When I turned the door handle the door pushed inwards. The full moon shined through the window touching a pile of sealed letters waiting to be opened and to reveal the secrets within.
Over the fireplace I found a book, it was bound leather with designs of dirt roads and tobacco barns. In the study I found a lantern and an old writer’s desk. I knew the night would be long, with the stories and an abundance of hand written letters.
I read of lost love, and dreams that never became realized. The book was a chronicle of the generations that called this farm home. I devoured the stories of times now forgotten and the hope they had for those to come.
I knew the dawn was near and the last chapter of the book was my name in bold letters. Perhaps now I would learn who I was and find answers of why I was left behind and abandoned to a life of unanswered questions.
The morning was near as I drove down the old dirt road and with so many questions I knew I would take the long way home.
