Sitting at his father's desk Bill stumbled from one emotion to another. He sifted through papers that held no meaning for him; and others that brought back memories of times past, times that now would never return. His father had died. The painfully tedious task of wading through the collection of documents and mementos filed away had fallen on the only son's shoulders. Amongst this repository of his father's life, Bill found a large manila envelope with a diary inside. It contained the daily dialogues and musings of his father with himself, and with fellow workers of the banana plantation in a Latin American country where he was employed as an agronomist. Forming the written characters into speech, the son could hear his father's voice, making his death seem unreal and unacceptable. Some comments were truncated by unexpected interruptions, and others stretched themselves into novel length descriptions of people and places. Delighting in the bittersweet find he held in his hands, one entry stood out. It was a rather cursory comment that abruptly stopped his reading. The words penned only as a passing thought unlocked the captured memories of the son. He saw in the words a detail that would take him to the now abandoned fruit plantation. The comment would lead him to a former work companion of his father. Together, they would search for confirmation of what was in the diary.