As his eyes rose to the sun-brazen sky, he thought to himself: "Yup, today is a good day to make amends."

The old man staggered down the steps of his porch. Each worn board creaked out a different tale. He stomped onto the sand and puffed dirt into the sky. His cane pressed into the ground and left behind a solitary mark.

A wind began to gust. It howled around him as he wandered into the open wheat field behind his ranch. Both his bones and the wind sang to him, a raspy whistling tune.

He turned around and surveyed his home. The two-story house stood proud yet empty. There once was laughter all around. The old man blinked his wet eyes to try to see it again. "Ah, there it is."

A little boy raced around the house, chased by an older boy and a younger girl. A woman stood in the doorway with a cup of coffee, smiling. The older boy caught the younger one and tackled him. The girl squealed and jumped up and down in delight. The boys tumbled into the grass and howled.

Then a puff of smoke appeared in the street. The children stopped playing and looked up. A truck rounded the bend and cruised towards the house. "Poppa!" cheered the children.

A man stepped out from the truck. The children ran up and encircled his legs. "Poppa!" they shouted.

He smiled and jumbled their hair. "How are my little munchkins?" he teased. The boys ran in circles around him as he picked up the little girl and gave her a kiss. "And how are you, my little princess?"

The little girl giggled. "We played hide-and-go-seek today!" she announced with glee. "And I hid in a bush behind the house and they couldn't find me!"

"Is that so? Why, you're a clever little princess!"

The woman walked over. "Hi honey!"

"Hi baby!" he greeted and hugged and kissed her too.

The vision began to blur. Blinking, the old man rubbed his eyes and tried to save the past. When he looked up again, it was gone.

He sighed and started towards the wheat field again. The wind rushed dirt and leaves around his thin legs. Covered only by tattered trousers and worn-out patches, his legs shivered. In the wind, a few lonely gray hairs fluttered, as if trying to leave his old body.

His joints cracked and the pain almost made him yelp. Breathing heavily, he steadied himself with his cane as he felt his heart pounding in his chest. Each beat was a thunderous roar. He winced and continued on.

As he brushed aside the wheat, the memories picked at his ears. He heard faint noises inside the house. Once again, a truck drove up to the house. But this time, no "Poppa!" cheers greeted the man in the truck.

The man entered the house. Footsteps approached him. "It's so late, honey," said the woman's voice. A muffled agreement answered her. "The kids are upstairs already, asleep. We were waiting for you for dinner, but they finally got too tired and went to sleep."

Another muffled answer came from the man and the footsteps shuffled apart.

The old man rubbed his ears. He wasn't sure he wanted to keep listening, but he couldn't stop it now. "Honey," spoke the woman's voice, "how much longer do you have to keep working so late?"

The tired man's voice muttered, "I'm sorry baby. You know I have to keep doing this for the family. I have a lot of responsibilities." Then he fell into the bed, exhausted.

This pain was worse than the pain in the old man's joints. He grabbed his chest. Each breath was a labor of agony. The pounding of his old heart was getting louder.

His eyes were tearing again. He blinked but wasn't able to clear them. In front of him was the woman, lying peacefully in an open casket. Her arms were to her sides and her eyes were closed.

The man cried as his children attended to the funeral. "Dad," one of them said days later. "I think you ought to go live in a place where someone can take care of you."

The man looked at his son, bewildered. "You mean leave this house? Live in a nursing home? Our family grew up here. I can't leave here."

The son shook his head. "Now that Mom's gone, we can't leave you alone."

"Then stay," said the man quietly, hopefully. "Stay with me. Just for a little while."

"Dad, we have our own lives now. I've already taken off enough days for this funeral. I can't take off any more time. I have responsibilities."

The man bowed his head and nodded. He taught his children well. "I'm staying," he declared. "I can take care of myself here."

The son sighed. "Fine, Dad." He stood up and took his coat. "We'll visit you once in a while."

The man smiled and nodded. The son turned and left.

Howling all around the old man, the wind began to pick up. Dirt swished and swirled. He covered his eyes and nose. Particles of sand bit his skin, attacking him from a thousand sides. He wobbled on his cane, trying desperately to hold himself up. Then, as suddenly as it rose, the wind died.

He coughed. It was a painful cough that radiated throughout his entire frail body. In reply, his heart sent shockwaves through his nerves. The combined assault blinded his senses momentarily.

The old man griped his cane tightly. Grabbed onto his chest again, he willed himself forward and took another step. Then he continued on.

A phone rang. He looked around him. Nothing but the wheat field and his house far in the distance could be seen. The phone rang again. Another memory drifted with the wind and into his ears.

"Hi Dad, I won't be able to come over again this year," spoke a voice on the other line.

"It's okay. How are you doing?"

"Awful. Another collections agent came by the house today. I can't pay these guys and I don't know what I'm going to do."

"Why don't you ask your brother or sister for help?"

"They're not in much better shape than I am, Dad. She's deeper in debt than she lets on and used to borrow from me all the time. Guess I can't lend her any more money now."

"She didn't tell me that."

"Yea. And he isn't much better. His ex-wife ended up taking most of his assets. He's back at the diner now."

"The diner? But I thought he was…"

"Working as a clerk at that office downtown? He is. He's got three jobs now. How else can he afford to support his kid?"

The man sighed. "How are your kids?"

"They're okay I think. I just got them a video game console with my credit card, so that ought to keep them busy all day."

"Is that really good for them?"

"Sure, why not? It keeps them busy so I can put in more overtime hours."

"But is that really a good way for your kids to learn?"

"Dad, it's not like I have a choice, you know. I can't just go home and play with my kids. I have responsibilities. You know that."

The man sighed again. "Yes, yes I do."

"Oh, and before I forget: happy birthday Dad."

"Thanks."

"I'll try to see if I can make it next year, okay?"

"Okay."

The old man rubbed his ears until they were red. Hot red tears stung his eyes. He dropped his cane and gasped. The pounding in his chest was deafening now. His legs wobbled as he tried to bend them down to reach his cane.

Something in his knee popped. He doubled over and fell. The dirt puffed up around him, covering him in a shroud of sand. He tried to move his left arm but couldn't. It lay there, motionless, next to his shivering body. Right in front of him was his cane, a gift from his wife.

He thought he could hear a phone ring again. He doubted it was real, although today was his birthday and his son used to call him on his birthdays.

The pain seemed to wash away like a tide ebbing. It was enough to give him a moment of reprieve. Another memory, a recent memory, drifted into his mind.

When he left his house today, he made a birthday wish. He wished he could help his children somehow, to make amends in some way. But he didn't know how. Until now.

Then the old man closed his eyes.

. . .

Several days later, county policemen found the body of an old man lying in a wheat field behind his house. The man was dead. The medical examiner determined the cause of death to be of natural causes, most probably a heart attack. No foul play was suspected.

The old man was survived by two sons and a daughter. Each was bequeathed a sizable inheritance, the combined sum of a life insurance payment and the remarkable property value of the land and the house. It was enough to relinquish the presumed financial difficulties of his children.

Strangely, the old man was found with a smile on his lips. In his right arm was a cane. Based on his appearance, it was believed that he died peacefully.