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It is raining as I step onto the bus and walk down the narrow aisle to my seat, looking at the faces of my fellow passengers. All of us, young and old, going home. Each of us clutching a small bag containing the remnants of our previous lives. My bag contains a few clothes that are dated and way too small; a rusted watch whose battery died many years before; a wallet with a credit card which had long since expired, and fifty two dollars; a bunch of keys; and most precious of all - a photo of my dear wife Betty.
I have kept that photo next to my heart for thirty-two years, and it is so faded that I can barely make out Betty's beautiful face. It was so long ago that I last saw her - half a lifetime, but I am going back to our old house, returning to finish something, and to find what I have been dreaming about for thirty-two years in prison.
Nine hours later and I am walking up the street where I used to live. Everything looks completely different to how I remember - houses painted different colors, trees bigger or gone, modern cars in every drive. 812, 814, 816... I stop outside the place where my house used to be, but there is a childrens' playground there now. Lots of grass and a set of swings. 818 Lincoln Drive no longer exists. The cold Nebraska wind chills me and stings my face, it'll be dark soon, I'll come back in a few hours.
I return after dark, and wait for all the lights to go out in the houses. I then take the spade that I bought in a hardware store, and take forty-one steps from the road onto the grass. I find the right place, start digging in the soft wet earth and soon find what I am looking for. It's a box that I buried in the backyard of our house just before the police arrested me back in 1976. I take the small metal box out of the hole and wipe the soil from its lid. The small key still fits, and so I nervously turn the key and hear the lock open. Inside the box is a small black bag. I empty it into my hand. Looking down I see the precious thing I've come to find: the silver ring that my beautiful Betty gave me on our first date in 1967.
Adjectives
dated:
Not fashionable because it is old.
rusted:
When the metal Iron
changes to be red or brown after becoming wet.
precious:
Very valuable and important. Sometimes meaning very expensive
faded:
Difficult to see clearly because the colour has become weak.
worn:
When
something is in a bad condition because it has been used many times.
Verbs
clutch:
To hold something very tightly.
make out:
To only just be able to see, hear or understand what something is.
chill:
To make something very cold.
bury:To
put something under the ground by digging a hole then replacing the
soil.
arrest: When
the police catch someone and take them to the police station.
fit:
To be the correct size.
Nouns
an aisle:
A long and narrow place to walk between rows of seats, or in a
supermarket.
a remnant:
A small part of something that exists after the other parts have gone.
Nebraska:
A
state in the northern part of the US.
a spade:
A
tool with a flat metal end and a long handle, used for digging holes.
a hardware store:
A shop where you can buy tools for working on your home or in your
garden.
earth (soil):
The substance that trees and plants grow in.
soil:
The substance that trees and plants grow in.
a lock:
A thing to keep a door or suitcase shut. You need a key to open it