#this is one of my favorite sections of any book of all time

The wall was old and falling down in places, overrun with weeds and thistle, crawling with green ivy. I had a key, which had been kept with the deed, and the key unlocked the high, arching metal door, rusted at the hinges. 

We walked through the gate and my heart sank deeper still.

It had the appearance of a place that was to be, but never became, a place that had a special purpose, often thought of but never acted on. 

There were no buildings, not one. Not a house or a red barn or a garage where a rich man might tinker with a foreign sports car he never intended to finish. But there were signs everywhere, expensive on. made of marble, like tombstones now, tipped over and dotting the acreage. 

This is what the first one we came to said: Here I will build a country house. where my wife and boy will play. And I will play with them, too When my work is through. 

Farther still, another sign, the corner cracked and broken: This is where the greenhouse will go, where my wife will grow rare orchids. And I will grow them, too. When my work is through.  

And more: 

The barn will go here, with horses my son will ride. And I will ride one, too. When my work is through. 

The pond will go here, with ducks for Merganzer, because he loves ducks. And I love them, too. I’ll love them best when my work is through.

And finally, we came to the saddest marble sign of all, the one that echoed my father’s words down through the years. The largest plot remained. 

And here I will make my field, a place with tools and sheds and tables of every kind, a field where we will imagine the wildest things in the summer sun, my boy and me. In the field of wacky inventions, my boy will prosper. And I will, too. When my work is through.

I stood in that open field, watching the wind blow through the tall weeds, and my good friend, George, put an arm around me. We cried for what never was and what could never be. 

“His heart was in the right place after all,” George said. 

It was just the sort of thing a best friend should say. 

—Patrick Carman, Floors.