There, he said. Look there. Behind that tree. Two logs making a cross, dad said to his son. Go on. Look.

The boy took his shovel and walked behind the tall oak. Two crossed logs laid on the ground. Leaves of different colors covered the area around it. He looked back at his dad.

Go on, the father said. Move that wood and start digging. Dad took out his Thermos and took a swig of coffee.

He swept the leaves out of the way. Began digging in the cold ground. The son got on his knees and began picking at the dirt with a small ax. Dad lit a cigarette. A mist began to fall.

Here, dad said. Get out of the way, he tapped his son on the shoulder and began digging. Deeper and deeper, he went into the earth until he hit a wooden box covered in clay and mud.

Is that it? the boy asked.

Looks like it.

It was a small container with the initials KS on it. Dad picked it up and brushed it off. He held it tightly in his hands and opened it up. The ashes were still inside.

When did she die?

Shortly after you were born.

How?

She had cancer.

Why didn’t you tell me till now?

I don’t know. Didn’t want you to think about it. Didn’t want you to know.

So you made up stories.

Some. Your mom was in the hospital. That much was true.

But, she never left you.

No. She never did.

Should’ve told me, dad. I could have handled it. You said she left us. Said she moved on.

She did.

What’re you talking about?

Mom went to heaven. 

Heaven’s a lot different than Amarillo.

They laughed. Do you want to bring her home? dad asked. Sit her up on the mantle?

I’d rather leave her here. Out in the woods. It’s peaceful here.

The two placed the wooden box back in the hole, packed the dirt down, and placed the logs in a cross back on top of her plot.

That’s what she would have wanted.