Rocky

Rocky

I’m fond of rocks. Not like someone who collects them. I’ve heard the names, quartz, sandstone, granite, etc. Not interested. I just like them. I often have some in my pocket, and little piles here and there in my apartment.

I see a rock, and I just like it, so I bring it home. Eventually I toss them back. Not because I don’t like them anymore, mostly because if you have so many rocks in your apartment, eventually, people start thinking you’re batty...

Once, as I was on my walk, I was grumpy. My knee hurt more than usual, the sun was a too bright, and the path I usually cut through to the park on was muddy from yesterday’s rain. I’m not batty, but I have cranky days.

Finally getting to the dry park path, I saw a twinkle from the edge. Sometimes people lose jewelry, I had to go check. It was just a rock, about the size of a baseball. I picked it up, it wasn’t sparkly, I didn’t know why it sparkled before.

As soon as I touched it, I felt connected to it, like it belonged to me. I felt calm, happy. I walked around twice! My knee felt fine! I’ve had it with me ever since. I call him Rocky.

Yes, Mrs. Simpson, you’ve told me this before. However, you still can’t bring “Rocky” on the bus, it’s illegal,” said her nurse Sara.

Mrs. Simpson looked at her, knowing she was going to lose this one. “Fine, can I bring a tiny pebble, in my pocket?”

“Yes, that would be fine.”

Mrs. Simpson smiled. Secretly, she knew Rocky knew how to shrink... he would do that for her. That Eva Bates was going to get her come-uppance today, right on the head!