I have good friends in Maine that I have known for almost 30 years. We still gather when we can.... but years back three or four of us would gather every Monday night at Patsy's house to stitch, drink tea, and visit.
Often when I arrived I would find myself in the kitchen visiting with Patsy while she got the tea water ready or finished whatever else she was doing....and almost every time I would pick up this rock. I loved this rock. It's about the size of a golf ball...almost perfectly round and smooth. Just before I moved to Madison in 2007...after almost 20 years gathering with these friends...I was at Patsy's on a Monday night, and per usual I picked up the rock. Without hesitation Patsy said something like...."you need to take that rock with you...it needs to go with you to Madison. You need that rock." I was touched...I couldn't have asked for a better gift. A piece of Maine...a piece of Patsy...a piece of our shared Monday nights.
It was still a few weeks from my actual departure day....and I got a call from Patsy. "I hate to tell you this....but I need my rock back." Long story short she had forgotten that it was given to her by her brother and she realized that it was important to him...and he would miss seeing it in her kitchen. She didn't want to hurt his feelings...and I totally got that. Of course she could have her rock back. And even if it ended here...it makes a good story.
I told Paul about it and he kind of chuckled...it all actually sounded kind of silly...it was just a rock. But he understood. But at this point I have to pause the story because you have to fully understand my love for rocks...and my husband's awareness of this. He knows that one of the best gifts he can give me is an interesting rock....round, heart shaped, one with interesting lines....it didn't really matter...he gets it.Remember this post?
And this one?
X heart O
Yup....that's my husband....FULLY in tune with my love for rocks.
Back to the story. So I'm telling Paul the story of Patsy's rock and he excuses himself and goes to the garage and comes back with something in his hand. He gives me this rock he found in Boulder Creek in Colorado when he was about 10. Other than different coloring...it was the same rock...same size, same feel. Paul had it all these years without me knowing about it. He waited (or that's what I'm telling myself) for just the right moment to give me it to me...and this certainly was the right moment. I feel like I still have Patsy's rock and Paul's rock....and it makes for a really good rock story.
And just a week or so I was visiting Patsy....and I did what I always do when
I go to her house...I picked up the rock....her rock....my rock....our rocks.
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