The StoneA Story by Tim
I picked the stone up off of the top of my dresser, slowly turning it over and over looking at it. I'd had the stone for a long while. When it first came in to my possession I carried it in my pocket for a number of years. But now it sits on the top of my dresser as a reminder.
There is nothing special about the stone. It is grayish in color with some specks of white and black. At one time it might have been rough with many edges. But now it is smooth, each corner worn down until it became smooth, so that now all the edges have become rounded and smooth to the touch.
For years the stone had been tossed by the waves, pushing it over other rocks, wearing it down. Waves rose up and crashed onto the small rock, slowly chipping away at the rough edges. Huge swells would push the stone up the beach and then pull it back down as the water receded. Every one of these actions caused the stone to lose its sharp edges and its roughness to become the smooth stone that it is today and, it took many years for it to become what it is , rounded and smooth.
I remember the day I picked up that stone off the beach.
It was an early fall morning and my youngest son and I were fishing off the beach for bluefish and strippers. He was in his senior year of high school and would be leaving for boot camp shortly after his graduation in the spring. He had been getting himself in to some trouble lately and I was trying to spend as much time as possible with him to keep him out of yet more trouble. He was never a bad kid, what he was doing wasn't bad just stupid stuff,. but enough to get him suspended from school for a while and spend a day or two in court before a judge.
The day was sunny and the fishing was good at first as two schools of blues went by. We raced up the beach following them, trying to catch as many as possible, reeling them in as fast as we could then grabbing the pail loaded with fish and running to catch some more. As the morning wore on the fishing came to an end. We walked the beach heading back to the truck, talking and tossing stones into the water as we went. During that time is when I slipped the one stone into my pocket.
“You know what would happen if your uncles were here don’t you,” I asked
“ What,” my son looked puzzled.
“Same thing that is going to happen here today” I answered.“ Youngest one cleans the fish!” I answered laughing as I handed him the bucket of fish.
Somehow we made it through that year, but not with out a few bumps in the road. He made through graduation by the skin of his teeth. Then two months later it was off to Marine boot camp, which he referred to as a thirteen-week vacation from home.
As I turn the stone over in my hand I think back over the last few years. He made it through boot camp and a deployment in Iraq. He plans on attending college when he is out and, is engaged to a wonderful girl, who keeps him in line.
Yes those rough edges are being worn down. A lot of that roughness is gone. With the passing of time yet more of it will wear away.
I hold the stone tightly in my hand for a few more minutes before putting it back on top of the dresser - Where it sits as a small reminder.
© 2009 Tim
Added on January 28, 2009
Last Updated on January 29, 2009
In New England
AboutI am an easy going person who loves the outdoors and everything that goes with it. Hiking , canoeing, fishing and gardening I was born and raised in New England. I am currently a manager at a larg.. more..
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