Fifteen years had passed since Rupert had given away his last gift and father time had indeed been kind to him. His ninety fifth birthday would be spent alone in the back of his shop and even though many people had offered to be with him and share his birthday the need for solitariness pestered him like an itch that couldn't be scratched. In his workshop tools adorned his walls or stood upright in special holders he had created for those he used most often. Each article put to use in his lifelong vocation was lovingly cared for in a professional manner and saws, axes, knives, gourges, chisels and drills were honed to a sharpness kindred to a straight razor. The course rasps, files and sandpapers, used were always cleaned or newly purchased and always located juxtaposed to their user.

Rupert sat on a rotary stool, the only wooden item he had not carved, and slowly surveyed the four walls of the room where he had spent the larger part of his life. The east wall was his favorite and had been the most difficult for him to complete. He had copied the genius of the renown Englishman Grinling Gibbons and the entirety of the wall was delicate leaves and colored flowers. Rupert's forte had been to carve flowers from woods of different hues and match them with the expertise of a man deeply in love with his work.

The south wall was fashioned after the carved doors of the Church of Santa Sabina with one anomaly. He carved his from a single slab of Giant Redwood rather than use cypress.

The west wall was a conglomeration of carvings as diversified as the nations they were created to honor. Protruding from the center of the wall was Fafnir, a dragon of Norse myth, so fiercely portrayed it caused hair tingles to those seeing it for the first time. Attached to the wall, so as to stand in an upright position, was the carving of a cover of an Egyptian tomb standing some eight feet tall. Its remarkableness was not only the perfection of the carving but also the colors of the wood. The figure of Snefru, in all his glory, was carved from a single piece of wood of two colors and the pharaoh was far lighter in color than his drab background. Totem poles from early native north Americans, lions and other animals from Africa, masks from early Asia, and many other beautiful carvings decorated the wall.

The north wall was a wooden history of all the journeys he had taken in pursuit of special woods. He had circumvented the earth on numerous occasions for a special color, odor, or grain needed to complete a project. He had traveled to the rain forest of Brazil and to the petrified forests of eastern Arizona. He had visited Israel and the deepest areas of China.

The top most part of the ten foot high room was in itself a masterpiece. The wholeness of the ceiling was of mahogany so dark it was on the verge of being black and thousands of tiny pieces of snow white kauri wood from New Zealand, placed in strategic locations, gave the appearance of stars. The Big and Little Dippers, Orion, and all the constellations glowed in their heavenly splendor.

Rupert looked at and studied each object he had created in the room and reminisced about those masterpieces he had sold or given to others. Especially those made from an old shriveled up olive tree. This room was his sanctum sanctorum, his most peaceful spot on earth, and as the numbers on his digital clock jumped to ten A.M. he lowered his head to the bench, closed his eyes, and drifted off into eternity.

At the exact moment the spirit abandoned Rupert's earthly shell ten other earthlings had an urge for a final visit to an old friend. Four days later they stood beside a plot of ground. All strangers to each other but all friends because they had a bond to the departed artist. Bobby Townsend walked up first and placed a patched old boat onto the newly made grave. Mike came next with the pieces of his gun. Joy approached next with her Madonna doll followed by Donnie who placed a bag of ashes, the remains of his eagle, on the ground. Lesa deposited what was left of her wooden box and Terry placed the draw string bag with the remaining sawdust close to the other objects. Owen gave up the map he had saved and Jason followed suit with the pieces of his fife. Silently Pete placed his glasses on the ground. Rose was the last to approach the grave and as she placed her book on the fresh ground with all the other things her eyes watered and the cover that had placed her in darkness dissolved and fell to the ground. For the first time in years Rose could see again and she knew why she had suffered all the miseries. When she first started college she was unsure of her calling and what she was supposed to do with her life, now she knew. She would spend the rest of her life teaching Braille to the blind, especially the children.

When the last item had been placed on the new grave they all stepped back and the fresh earth beneath the wooden objects shook slightly as a tiny wooden cross arose from the earth. Slowly it moved to the large unmarked headstone and as it melted into the stone all the other wooden carvings followed suit. Two pieces of the tree were obvious by their absence and once it was as complete as it could be for the moment, Jason went into a fit of coughing. When he removed the handkerchief from his mouth there was a tiny sliver of wood on the cloth and it immediately united itself with the rest of the carvings. As the wee sliver disappeared a spectral mist appeared and standing near the headstone waved its fumy hand from the bottom to the top of the piece of granite. Once its mission was complete the image disappeared as mysteriously as it had arrived. In unison the group drew closer to see what purpose the apparition had in appearing. The stone had convexed and been sculptured in the shape of the original olive tree when it was in its youth and productive, with one small exception. One piece was still missing. Daisy's doctor Painfree. He was still needed and would take his place in the tree after his mission was complete.