There once was a man whos land was large but wallet was small. He was known for his old fashioned views, but loved for the friendship he offered. There wasn’t a single man who didn’t enjoy his company.
He was a factory worker with only a dog to keep him company when he returned home, but he didn’t mind. Aside from that old dog, he had the whole forest and the whole pasture too keep him busy.
The land was given to him when his parents died and he treated it like family. Every blade of grass was a new cousin and the birds were wisdom filled grandparents. Their songs often lured him to sleep when his mind was filled with the stress of the industrial world.
This man often found himself simply sitting in the middle of his field reminiscing over the fact that it was his. He would breath in the smell of nature and cool down after a long day while studying the land he had earned and helped thrive. Hours spent cutting the grass and clearing fields made him a proud but tired man.
As he grew older he began to question what would happen to his land when he could no longer maintain it. He couldn’t imagine himself selling it and couldn’t imagine someone else taking over.
So he simply waited. He waited for time to run it’s course and steal his breath. His only hope was that he could just stay. He wanted to die sitting in that field and have the house and land age around him. Dreams of himself being covered by the growing grass and burning sun crept into his sleep and he didn’t disagree with them. It was all he wanted.