The Rock

I think it all began about 17 years ago as I was about to embark on my year long study abroad in Costa Rica, or maybe it was just after I graduated from college and was packing my bags to, yet again, leave the country for an undisclosed amount of time.... But whenever it was, the day I got the rock, it became a symbol. A symbol of safety, a symbol of protection, and a symbol of the unspoken depth of our friendship. I remember my friend coming over, handing me a glassy, oval, white and purple rock. She told me to keep it with me as I traveled the globe as a sign of protection. It had helped her though some rough times and she was ready to pass it onto me. I carried that rock in my money belt- the entire 1 1/2 years that I was traveling around Latin America. Each time I saw it, I smiled and remembered all that I had here at home. It was, in fact, my grounding rock. When I returned home from my adventures, it was my friend who was leaving on one of hers. She was off for a year to study in some foreign place, and right before she left, I handed her back the rock. Just a smile, that rock spoke louder than any words. A few years later and I was off to Thailand for two years, and low and behold, I had the nice shiny rock returned to me. Another smile. I held onto it for a while. That is, until my friend had her first child. I held out my hand, and this time we just looked at each other and laughed...

Over Christmas I confided in my friend and told her about my situation. We discussed it for a while, and I felt comfort knowing I could tell her anything. Last Thursday, I returned home from school to find a green gift bag on my front door nob. I peered inside and saw the rock. I smiled.....