Stones: A Complete Story in Six Sentences

We met on a riverbank one twenty-something summer, and you showed me how to make flat, round stones skip over the water. A week later, we took a walk along that same river where you delighted me by turning over white rocks to prove they were porcelain bits with blue feathers.

Over the years, we collected smoothed pieces of glass—mostly brown and green with the occasional blue—that accumulated in a jar we kept on our kitchen counter.

Our collection grew, and we added three children to our rock hunting tribe. Mae liked small greenish stones while Adam preferred quartz and Annie just liked to draw her name in the sand.

When you left this life during an afternoon nap, I found a round, flat stone cupped in your hand, and I knew you waited for me on the other side.