Donovan found himself standing at a Crossroads.

He’d never actually owned anything before, really, least of all a room all to himself. Before in his life it had always been a friend’s couch or the guest room: never his own room that he paid money for that was not hotel based. He’d been happy with that kind of a life because not keeping ties was what suited. Always on assignment somewhere like India or Brazil it didn’t make sense to pay rent for somewhere he wasn’t going to stay. Circumstances hadn’t changed much but he took the plunge, moving in with family.

Yet here he was standing in his own room in the apartment he was sharing with his cousin Marlin, realizing that as he put away the last item from his last box from storage that A. his life only filled a pitiful amount of space and B. he had finally managed to gain a foothold in the world he had previously sworn never to possess. It didn't feel bad...just weird.

Nevermind Pappy’s house that had been left to him in the will. He didn’t consider that his property only because he hadn’t stepped foot in the place since his grandfather’s death. He just quietly paid the property taxes on it every year and left it as good as boarded up, shuttered up tight like some post Apocalyptic reminder of normal. He remembered sitting at Pappy’s knee when he was younger, listening to him drone on about the “good old days” while a game played on the TV on low. He never grew tired of listening to those stories. The Laz-E-Boy still sat right where it was left in honor of his fallen father figure, probably never to be sat in again, out of respect.

That period of happiness continued to haunt him now, possibly forever. Nothing else had ever felt so good to him, like something out of Leave it to Beaver. With his mother’s tendency toward alcohol and double shifts he hardly saw her and with his father unknown in a line of one night stands to say his family was limited was an understatement. It was Pappy that spent time with him and taught him the important things, like how to be a man. He was forever in debt that those memories.

He hoped the old man would be proud of him today not just for connecting with more of his family but for taking the first steps toward adulthood, despite his age. Maybe someday he could take it a step further and bring himself to go home again, despite the memories lingering there.

For now he sat on the edge of his bed and looked around the small, unassuming room with his personal effects placed deliberately along its walls and felt a small swell of pride. Maybe this was growing up and if it was, it didn’t seem to be half bad…