Rocks of Rememberance

Some time in my travelling career I’ve exchanged the accumulation of miscellaneous knick-knacks for collecting rocks from faraway places.

My one-of-a-kind friend Susan smuggled several on my behalf from her annual pilgrimage to the Holy Land few years ago – a rock from the valley of Elah where David whacked Goliath on the forehead  (obviously it was a different rock). Then one from the field in Bethlehem where angels announced to the shepherds ‘good news of great joy for all people' (there is no record of anybody throwing rocks during that event). 

For my 40^th birthday, my one and only sister gave me a piece of ancient Turkish kaldrma she excavated from a cobblestone street in Beograd.  

Last summer we picked up some black lava rocks from New Mexico, riverbed rocks from American River, rocks from San Francisco bay, Colorado Rocky Mountain (of course!). I even hauled a boulder from Grand Canyon all the way to Florida.  I don’t know if anybody has noticed anything missing but nobody has shown up on my doorstep... yet.

It truly is amazing that something so commonplace, practically worthless has become so dear to me. In their dense space, they cradle multitude of memories of countless untold adventures we stashed along life's rocky road.

When I need a break or reprieve from my bustling busy head I like to play with them.  Some may call it ‘stress reliever’ others ‘stress inducer’…  I stack them on top of each other - they tumble and fall all the time, but that makes them even more fun and any success more delicious.

Eventually our counter got so cluttered by the scattered rocks that several weeks ago I scooped them all up and very gently, lovingly - the way you treat real treasures - set them down one by one inside a clear glass vase. They were still there on the countertop, still visible, still available and ready for any amateur sculptor willing to transform them into an impromptu piece of art, just not a chaotic, in-your-face illustration of our chaotic lives. 

Life continued to buzz in and out of our kitchen while the rocks sat quietly on the countertop, watching us with their unblinking eyes through their clear glass window...