A trip home isn’t complete unless I collect sea glass. Wait. Let me clarify: a trip home isn’t a trip home unless I collect as much sea glass as I possibly can carry back with me. I can spend hours combing the beaches looking for hints of greens, browns, blues, whites, and even purples (my favorite). There are rules, of course. Pieces can’t be too small. Edges can’t be too sharp. Every piece has to be worn smooth by time and nature. True sea-worn glass. Lately, I’ve added periwinkle and mussel shells to the list of collectibles. Purple and blues, browns and whites – colors to add to the front rock garden when I get home. Every trip I am bound and determined to bring a little bit of home home with me.
Last October I went home with a friend and stumbled across this rock. This amazingly I-Have-to-Have-It perfect rock. Its white snake-like streak stood out against the black and practically called my name. I wanted it. I had to have it. Obsessed with keeping it mine I set out to hide it. But where? Like a dog worried about its bone I moved the rock from hiding spot to hiding spot. Too close to the path. Too close to the ocean. Too much in plain view. Too hidden. Finally, I settled on the perfect spot and promised myself and the rock I would be back. Weeks turned into months until finally, nearly a year later, Kisa and I returned. I just had to show him my treasure. We were pressed for time. We were supposed to be on a simple hike. But. how was I to know I wouldn’t remember where I left the rock? I searched high and low, panic starting to set in. Where was my rock? Had I outsmarted myself? Why wasn’t it right where I left it? Because I couldn’t remember where I left it. Wandering from bush to bush, rock to rock I combed the area thinking I would see it soon. It has to be here! I was frantic to find it, lest Kisa thought me crazy. Where would it go? Maybe my worst fears came true and someone else spotted my perfect rock and took it for themselves. Was it possible?
Finally, I was close to giving up when, great gads, there it sat. Right where I left it. When I told Kisa I wanted to put it into our backpack I could tell he thought I was crazy. Quickly, I filled him in on my plan – “I’ll carry it up the hill. You carry it out of the woods. We’ll drop it off at the Mooring Chain. Later, we’ll collect the cooler from mom and wheel it down to the boat…And…and you’ll take it home.” As I illustrated my plan I could see him eyeing the rock. “Well…It is cool…” Even though his voice trailed off, I knew I had him. It was all about the rock.
Now the rock is home. It sits in our front yard, front and center. I was proud of our recent addition but thought that was that. Too big to become a habit I thought this would be our first and only rock theft.
It was Kisa who came back with “I think we should walk away with a rock every year!”