Why was I digging that hole?

One midday, I was digging a hole out in the front yard, and I couldn't remember why.

The midday sun was hanging right above me and my face was wet with perspiration. The palms of my hands felt wet too and a couple of times I had to wipe them on my jeans in order to keep my grip on the shovel I was using. I was well into the hole I was digging, about chest deep. All morning I had been out in the front yard digging that hole. A few people had passed by. Some looked on in curiosity, some waved at me with a friendly, "hello" while some didn't even notice me. Not that it mattered though. I knew why I was digging this hole...

I paused in place.

Why was I digging that hole, again?

I put down the shovel and wiped my brow. My back, grateful for my decision to stand upright. I looked up at the sun and squinted. It was only when I put one of my hands up to shield my eyes from the sun that I noticed my palm was covered in splinters and cuts. The other one too, as I immediately found out. My finger nails were also filled up with soil, like I had been digging with my bare hands. But I had a shovel didn't I?

The pain in my hands had become quite apparent now and I decide to go get cleaned up. A little break was bound to help me remember why I was digging that hole. I heaved myself out of the pit and walked back into the house. As I washed my hands, I racked my brain over and over trying to figure out why I had been out digging that hole all morning. I was just a little over 50 years old, so a little memory failure didn't particularly alarm me. I had been having a little trouble with my memory of late. Right then, I was just glad my son Kanja wasn't there to see his old man be such a scatter brain. But Kanja was quite a helpful boy. He was only 7 but always helped me around the house when I was running slow. He always got top grades in class as well, and he was a loyal friend to his buddy Leko. I hadn't seen Leko much lately even though he was a neighbour of ours, but he and Kanja attended the same primary school, I knew that much.

I went into the Kitchen to make myself a sandwich and washed that down with a cold beer from the fridge. I sat down infront of the television just in time to catch a rerun of "The Jeffersons." It had been one of my favourite shows on tv in it's hey days. Just as it built up to its seventh minute I gave way to my usual afternoon nap.
A knock at the door stirred me from my sleep. I looked up at the clock on the wall, it was 2.34 pm.
I got up and rubbed my eyes walking, half asleep, to the door.

"Good afternoon young sir," I said with a smile.

At the door there was, indeed, a young man. He had short kempt hair and wore a business shirt and pants. His tie hang loosely around his neck. No doubt, he had spent his day behind a desk.

"Hello, dad," he said.

I was stunned. What the hell was going on? Dad?

"I'm sorry, young man. You must have the wrong house." I said this with a little concern.

The man did not turn around and leave offering an apology as was expected. He just stood there and looked at me. He did not seem like he wanted to hurt me. He looked tired but maintained a polite smile anyway.

"Dad, it's me, Kanja. We need to go home, it's getting late."

"Kanja? My son is in school. Get out of here before I call the police."

With that, I reached for the receiver of the telephone that hang beside the door just to show him that I wasn't kidding - but the phone wasn't there.

"Dad, the phone isn't there anymore. We took it with us when we moved, remember?"

This statement took me aback. When we moved? What was he talking about? I backed away from the door slowly and then moved quickly into the kitchen - there was another phone on the counter there. But when I got there, the was no phone on the counter. There was nothing there. No refridgerator, no stove, no sink, no counters either. The whole place was covered in dust and smelt musty, unused.
I turned around and faced the living room. There was nothing there either. No television, no clock on the wall, no arm chair where I had fallen asleep, no empty beer can and no plate dotted with bread crumbs. Just dust and that same musty smell from the kitchen.

"I saw the hole outside," the young man said as he stepped into the house.

I was too stunned to respond. He took my hands and held them up so that he could see them in the sunlight that was streaming in through the door way.

"Look," he said as he headed over to the staircase. He held up a small plastic case.
 "I left you a first aid kit here last time. To use after your digging work."

I looked down at my hands. They were still cut, dirty and bleeding. I looked back up at the young man, tears stung my eyes.

"Kanja. . ." I said. I let a tear run down my cheek, then another.

Kanja came up to me and hugged me. He did not cry like me, but he did not let go until I gently broke the embrace. He led me to the stair case and proceeded to pull out all the splinters I had then cleaned up my cuts. All the while I just looked on.

"There we go. All better."

His face was kind and patient as he gently squeezed my hands. He closed the case and left it right there on the first step and led me out of the house, closing the door behind us. As we walked out to the curb where he had parked his car, I noticed three patches on the front lawn where the earth looked like it had been disturbed. Like someone had, perhaps, dug up holes there too.

Kanja helped me into the passenger seat and fastened my seatbelt for me. He had always been such a helpful boy. Always helped me when I was running slow.

Author's Note

Brand new at this.
Please be very frank and honest in your reviews.
I only want to get better.

Reviews

[Kenneth Compton]

Very well written piece. The voice is genuine and likeable, you don't use overly complicated words which tend to make the characters less believable in a first person narrative. This story emanates a sadness and power that few can duplicate. Good job my friend, keep it up!

[Drew Olson]

Wow... I was very impressed with the way this was written. Very readable, yet emotional and powerful at the same time.