When I was little, we had a driveway of rock. Almost every morning, for several years, I would pick up a new rock for my collection. I had a box (I believe it was the box from an "Annie" mug) in the top drawer of my night stand. Each rock was kept in this box which soon became more and more full with time.
Most weekends I would get a piece or two of the newspaper lay them on the counter. I would gather two bowls, a towel, and my clear nail polish. I would wash, rinse, dry, and paint the rocks with the polish. Sometimes I would have my little book of rock information next to me so I could try and figure out what the rocks were made of. It was fascinating to me and I loved my collection.
As I got older, I outgrew the routine of cleaning and painting the rocks. I stopped picking them up from the driveway and I think most of them made it back there eventually. The interest in rocks never completely died. I still look and wonder. Often when we go on a vacation or trip we will come home with a rock or two and my children have also been known to collect a rock here and there.
The house we are renting has a paved driveway. However, some of the landscaping is rock. Rock very similar to my driveway as a child. All different muted colors that when wet reveal lines of green and speckles of blue or pink. Tonight I examined some of the rocks a little more carefully and decided I should pick one. One to keep. I don't think our landlord will mind. I washed it, rinsed it, and dried it off. I don't have any nail polish yet, but this one might get a coating eventually. It can be my healing house rock. A little reminder.
These are not my rocks...
but this one can be.