The Hidden Treasure

  The Hidden Treasure: Reflections on a High School Journey Dear readers, I can’t believe spring break is almost here. As high school activities begin to wind down and we start finalizing the exciting journey toward college, I’ve found myself reflecting on a story that changed my perspective on my four years here: The Treasure Hunt. The tale goes like this: An elderly farmer, knowing his time was running short, gathered his sons around his bed. "Listen carefully," he told them, his voice serious. "Our family estate holds a great treasure somewhere on its land. I don't know exactly where it is, but it's there. Search every inch. Leave no stone unturned." When the father passed, the sons didn't hesitate. They grabbed their spades and started digging. They turned over every foot of soil, searching the fields multiple times and going over the same ground again and again until their hands blistered and their backs ached. Weeks passed. No gold. No jewels. No t...

When Everyone Listened

 November is a time for thanksgiving - a time for reflection and for being thankful.

Dear readers, let me narrate an incident that the family still remembers with laughter.

Every year, the family celebrated Thanksgiving with a big outdoor lunch.
The tables were set out in the yard under the bright afternoon sky.
The main dishes stayed inside, warm and ready, while everyone served themselves outside.
It had become their family ritual - full of sunshine, chatter, and good food.

This year, the highlight of the meal was supposed to be Mother’s mashed potatoes — soft, creamy, and perfectly smooth.
Just before lunch, she took a small taste and frowned slightly.

“Oh dear,” she said, “it needs a little salt.”

She turned to her friends, Aunty Jamina and Aunty Stacy, who were helping in the kitchen.
“Can one of you please add a pinch of salt to the potatoes while I set the table?”

They both nodded cheerfully.
Then, just to be safe, Mother called out to the children.

“If you see Aunty Jamina or Aunty Stacy, remind them to add salt to the potatoes, okay?”

The children nodded eagerly, happy to be given an important job.

But when they went into the kitchen, the aunties were nowhere to be found.
The big bowl of mashed potatoes sat alone on the counter, waiting patiently.
The children looked at one another.
Maybe they could help?

One child added a pinch of salt.
Another added a pinch too — just to be sure.
Then a third, remembering what Mother had said, added one more pinch.

Outside, the laughter grew louder as friends and family gathered around the tables.
Plates filled quickly — rice, vegetables, salad, bread, and the famous mashed potatoes.

The first few bites brought silence.
Then came puzzled looks.
And finally, “These are so salty!” someone exclaimed, still laughing.

Mother looked surprised. “But I only asked for one pinch!”

Aunty Jamina chuckled. “I added one!”
Aunty Stacy giggled. “Me too!”
And one of the children mumbled softly, “We did too…”

For a moment, everyone just stared — and then the whole group burst out laughing.

Moral: Too many reminders can drown the message.

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