The Profoundness of Holes

I was standing in my garage talking to a man who had an interesting way of coping. He said that whenever he had a row with his missus or he when he just needed time to think, he would pick up his spade, go into his garden, and dig a hole.

“Does it help?” I asked.

He told me that it helped very much.

I enquired about what he did with a hole once he had finished digging it.

“Fill it in,” he replied.

We both nodded knowingly.

This conversation took place over three years ago, yet I recall it frequently, and one day I might just dig a hole.


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