“Come see the hole I’m digging!” Nikko burst through the back door while the pasta boiled and steamed on the stove.
“Yeah, I’m digging holes! It’s so much fun! I feel so accomplished.”
I broke from the task of making dinner and walked to our side-yard, a junky, unseen section of the property neglected these past thirteen years.
Indeed, he was digging holes! Just near the solitary pine tree, Nikko had excavated twin tunnels about two-feet wide and two-feet deep! A pile of rocks lay to the left and a pile of dirt to the right.
“Wow! You are digging holes! You weren’t kidding!”
“Yep,” his eyes flickered joyfully as he spoke, “And I’ve found these rocks. Aren’t they great? I’m going to wash them and study them. Some have mica in them, and I think this one is from a volcano.”
He picked up the dirt-covered stones and turned them in his hands, returned them to the pile and picked up the old shovel.
“I’m going to keep digging. I like to work. I like finding rocks that particularly amaze me.” Continue reading