Do What You Know

I thought about the words my father said to me as a child.

“If you don’t know what to do, do what you know.”

I thought about that as a drove the car up into the mountains. I was careful not to exceed the speed limit, following the route I had so many times before.

The forest loomed down on me, making it feel like a secret journey into the familiar.

I parked up next to a small clearing. I remembered being here as a child, my dad saying we could go fishing as soon as he finished. And when he did, I caught two large salmon. I still think about that, which is why it was so easy to find this place.

Digging is hard work, my Dad said. But the effort you put in is rewarded. When you think you’re done, dig another couple of feet, it makes the difference. So, that’s what I did. When I finished, I finally understood what he meant. I looked around and saw that all the places he had dug were now overgrown, reclaimed by nature. So I did the same.

When I finished sweat beaded on my skin and I was proud of myself. I heaved the package into the hole and covered it in the soil. I placed branches and stones on top, making sure to make it look as natural as possible.

Do what you know he said.

Like father, like son.

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