“My 76-Year-Old Grandpa Took Me Into the Woods Every Day and Made Me Undress Until I Was Half-Naked. But One Day, My Mother Secretly Followed Us and Heard Strange Screams Coming From Deep Inside the Forest. When She Got Closer and Saw What We Were Actually Doing, Her Heart Couldn’t Take It. She Fell to Her Knees and Burst Into Tears…”

Grandpa carried tools and small pieces of timber. I helped him with lightweight materials, checked measurements, and marked places where the ground was uneven.

Whenever the water became too deep or the current grew stronger, we stopped.

But even on the days when we never entered the stream, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was part of something I wasn’t supposed to know about.

And my grandfather’s insistence on secrecy began to frighten me almost as much as the water itself.

“Why can’t Mom know?” I asked him one morning.

He stopped working.

“Because I want her to see it when everything is ready.”

“See what?”

He looked at me with a sadness I couldn’t understand.

“Something she has been missing for twenty-five years.”

I waited for him to explain.

He didn’t.

“Grandpa, this isn’t fair. You keep telling me to trust you, but you won’t tell me anything.”