Uncle M

My ancestral home's a huge place. Different seasons, weathers and times of the day created many different moods around it. One morning I was perched on Uncle M's lap and chatting with him. He was sitting on a huge armchair. He had a beard. He'd answer all my questions smilingly- the smile was almost a permanent fixture on his face. I don't recall when he slipped out of the place. Then after sometime someone new appeared at the gate and called out to me, to go to the temple with him. He didn't look familiar. Someone said it was Uncle M- but this new face was clean shaven. I concluded there were two Uncles M- this one must be the junior Uncle M. The senior appealed better to me- I refused to go with the junior, no matter how he coaxed me.