His desire is to gather it all in – to somehow wrap his arms around these five acres that were nearly the whole of the world for the child. Something magical here, some siren song beckons him back to this place, this nexus of two worlds. Now forty six, he recalls his father’s forty-second birthday, and how very old that seemed at the time. Wearying of that which once came and passed by so easily, he leans on the shiny fender of his achievement – oddly out of context. Sunlight filters silently down through the rustling canopy of green, lending an emerald blush to everything beneath. “This is where I want to die.” he thinks to himself, and smiles at the thought, for the child would never have thought such a thing.