“I’ll show you the page he made for the ranch. It’s great, and Jessealready said he’s filled gaps this year and some for next already, just from Ethan’s work.” I pass the phone to my uncle, and he carefully unfolds his glasses from his pocket and places them on his nose before peering at the photos.
He clicks on a photo and hums. “You’ve been fishing, I see. Still smoking those cigars I got you?”
“Yeah. Is that on there?”
He passes the phone back to me, and I pause at the photo. It’s one of me fishing from a distance. You can’t see my face, but the accompanying words make me smile. There’s another one of Ethan with his fish before he hooked his thumb, and my heart stutters. That smile of his could light up a room.
“He’s handsome,” my uncle says softly, and I meet his gaze.
“He is. He’s also smart, and he has a knack for photography. Ethan is very arty and willing to learn all the things. That was his first time fly-fishing.”
The server stops to remove our empty plates, and both of us order a coffee while I visit the dessert section and bring us both back a plate of brownies, ice cream, and a slice of watermelon.
“I want to offer you advice, Colt.”
“I’m listening.”
He scoops the last bite of ice cream into his mouth. “Your mom wouldn’t want you to make safe decisions all the time, Colt. I know that for a fact. She loved living life to the maximum. If she were here, she’d tell you to spend every minute you can with that man, even if it meant you’d be in tears when he left.” He pauses and sips from his coffee. “I know that because she told me that once, and I didn’t listen. It’s been decades, and I wish I had listened.”
“You regret not being like her?”
He shakes his head with a sad smile.
“I regret not living like tomorrow isn’t guaranteed. I’m almost eighty years old, Colt. I live alone, and while I’ve madepeace with that, sometimes I wish I’d allowed myself to take a risk. Maybe things would be different if I had.”
I look closer at my uncle. His weathered and wrinkled face is content, but his eyes flicker with a sadness I often thought was for his sister. Perhaps I was wrong all these years.
“I don’t want to leave Chance. Or the ranch. It’s my home, and I just can’t imagine doing anything else. I’m a cowboy and a teacher of things outdoors. What would I even do if I followed him? I might not be close to you if I follow him, and I’m not ready for that.”
“Colt,” he chastises, “I’m an old man who knows how to use a phone and Instagram. It’s not like we wouldn’t keep in touch.”
“I can’t believe you know how to use Instagram before me,” I mutter.
“The point is, you don’t need to put your life on hold just for me. Don’t use me as an excuse not to take a risk.”
The rest of our visit has me take him to the small park in Fort Collins, where we watch the ducks and a few kids build boats to float down the creek. Uncle Albert walks with his walker well enough, and I’m happy to go from bench to bench as he does. It’s nice to get out with him like this. I’ve missed him.
When I bring him back to his retirement home, I stay longer than usual. We sit in the common area, and the woman named Marjorie, with the Instagram grandkids, stops by to show me the photos and introduce herself.
She’s a motherly type who I instantly love and can see my uncle might have a bit of a crush on. When I leave, I tell him so.
“Is Marjorie the one to make you take a risk, Uncle Albert?”
He smiles before opening his arms to hug me goodbye.
“You’ve always been perceptive, Colt. Take that into this thing withEthan.”
“Not what I asked.” I grin as he eases himself into his recliner.
“She helps my days feel more full.”
He shrugs his shoulders like it’s no big deal and fidgets with the button on his sweater. Seems like we’re both too stubborn to admit things.
“I’m happy about that.”
“Me too. Now drive safe and text me when you’re home.”
“I love you.”
