Buried deep in this tiny meadow is a red plastic disk sled. I know it’s there, because that’s where I left it: On a frozen pond when I was about nine years old.
The pond thawed. The disk sled sank. I considered slogging around in the muck at the bottom of the pond to find my sled, and quickly abandoned that idea. I didn't know what lurked in the muddy brown water, and I had no desire to find out.
Over the next few decades, Mother Nature and a backhoe filled the pond. I don’t think my father ever knew the sled was down there. But I knew what was buried beneath the surface.
And now, you know, too.