I like how when I’m gone for awhile and I’m busy and I don’t think much about that place. I like not thinking about that place. I like thinking about my own goals. I like thinking about better places.
She explored a bit it was quickly taken to the rocks of the driveway. She liked to pick them up, feel of them, and then place them in random places through the backyard – mainly the puppy pen and the mound of dirt I was working with. Those rocks kept her busy and she was fascinated by them.
Later we took a walk down to a friend’s house. She rode in the wagon for only a moment before wanting to walk on her own. Little walking passed, though, because she stopped frequently to observe and select more rocks. She placed her favorites in the wagon for me to pull.
The next day, she continued her hunt and observation of rocks. She would collect a couple, show me, and then place them someone in the yard. Whatever she collected ended up back in the yard. She didn’t keep any. She only picked some up, enjoyed them for a few moments, and then put them elsewhere in the backyard.
Later on we walked a trail. On a concrete path she was disappointed that the rocks embedded within were set and stone. She couldn’t collect. Later we saw beautifully polished stones for sell. After distracting her from the tiny stones I decided not to buy them (choking hazard).
On our journey back to her home, she became restless. A tired baby very much despises the car seat. I searched for an object for her to play with and found a slice of sheet rock my father had given me months before. She lived it. It was smooth and pale green.
On the drive she played with the stone and I joined in where I could safely. She pretended to lose the stone and then astonishingly find it. I’d tighten it up in my fiat, count to three, and then burst open my clenched hand to reveal the stone. She smiled a lot with her incoming gapped teeth. It’s the best smile in all existence.
We arrived at her home early and awaited her family out in the front yard. She held the stone in her hand through running, kicking a ball, and taking a couple painful falls. She wouldn’t let it go. She sat at her dirty outdoor kiddie table and I sat across, barely fitting my adult butt into the small chair.
Placing the stone on the table, she wouldn’t let me touch it. I snatched it up quickly and began the game of “who can get it faster.” She laughed and loved the game. We repeated this and variations of it until her family arrived.
With the offer of pizza, she dropped the stone without noticing. I grabbed the little shiny rock and cleaned it off. It’s in a special box in my room, now.
That rock represents these past two days with her. We had two full days of laughs and bonding. I only wish everyday could be spent with her. My rock is my memory. I will never let it go.