I texted Dad one afternoon.
Me: Do you remember having a black leather strap that was about 18 inches long and thinner at one end than the other?
Dad: Don’t remember any strap.
Me: When we lived on mainstreet Quill Lake and were moving to a house across from the high school, I buried that strap in the back yard. Did you ever imagine your six-year-old could be so conniving?
Dad: Never imagined such a thing.
Me. I was like The Bad Seed.
Dad: Not that bad.
Later we talked on the phone and he told me he’d been on the golf course when he received that text. He’d laughed and told his mates. He said to me, “You probably should’ve buried that strap five years earlier.”
Lorna: No, not chastising you! Of course not. I was responding to your recent comment about trying not to speak unkindly about others.