Sometimes you arrive at something small, like a pebble, or a discovery of a bit of your soul that you lost along the way, and you take stock of where you are on your path. That happened to me this week. I found a handful of pebbles, in fact. I am a perpetual stock-taker, an accountant of pebbles, a self-cartographer. Sometimes I take too much stock studying the pebbles, and I neglect the road. My hands and pockets get weighted down with an accumulation of gravel, much of which no longer has any name, and none of which is worn smooth. I should make these pebbles into pearls. There should be a pearl for every person I have loved, and one for every book I have read, and one for every bright piece of candy that sweetened my world.
Here are some pearls:
1. A lover’s forgiveness;
2. Anticipation of a new-mowed yard;
3. Coffee, always coffee; today’s special is cherry and chocolate left over from Christmas, which is worth its weight in pearls.