Roy and his sister had driven over in separate cars, alone in their thoughts. Coming up the long dirt drive, Roy's late-model Buick had soaked up the ruts, heaving like a pleasure boat cutting through whitecaps. The twisted, bare apple trees had flashed by in the headlights.

Roy thought of this as he worked the sponge across the wall.

Why not take his time, he thought. Why not give the old place an honorable sendoff, a last hurrah? Why not really scrub those damn walls, look around a bit, soak in some memories? He dropped the sponge in the bucket.

Walking to the pantry, Roy ran his right hand along the narrow hallway wall. The faded wallpaper's crazy little red robins and jays were still perched on berry bushes and slender branches after all these years. "This is for you guys," Roy said softly as he reached into a small cabinet. He pulled out a fifth of Old Turkey, untouched since his father's last ambulance trip six years ago. With a nod to the wallpaper aviary, Roy poured a finger's worth into a cloudy tumbler and threw it back. - RJ