Monday, July 2, 2012

Rock Collecting

I started collecting rocks when I was about six years old.  I collected sandstone rocks you could write with, pinkish feldspar rocks, salt-and-pepper pieces of granite, and smooth white lucky stones, but my favorites were the sparkly ones I sometimes found on the path to school.  I don't know what kind of rocks they were--to me they seemed like diamonds.  They were the stars of my rock collection.  I kept all my rocks in an old metal Crisco can.  I used to spend hours looking at them and arranging them.  Then somewhere along the way, they disappeared.  I don't know if happened on our move from Indiana to Pennsylvania, or if they survived the move but fell victim to one of my mom's garage-cleaning frenzies.  All I know is they are gone.  But my fondness for rocks remains.  I like the craggy layers of slate and any good skipping stone, but these days my favorites are the smooth, round stones that fit perfectly in my hand. I like the cool solid feeling of them and the way time and life have smoothed away their sharp edges--something I hope is happening to me, too.

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