I want to tell you about rocks.
I have some
favorites; the beautiful softly colored green rocks that my sister Shirley
hauled down a Colorado mountain in her backpack because she knew how much I
would love them. (They were big and heavy) Then there are the stones, little
rocks, that Kelly hand picked from a Massachusetts shoreline, each shape and
color she knew only I could love. And the cairn rocks that I see along my
hiking, that show me where to go, I especially love the tiny flat one that
Nancy quietly left on my Adirondack dresser last year, and the white perfectly
formed stone that Susie plucked out of the ocean and put in the palm of my hand
a very long time ago.
But the dearest rock to me is the one on the top of
Noonmark. When I put the flat of my hand on the warmth of its earthy core I am
grounded in a way that nourishes me until the next time I climb my way to it.
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