I found a red rock.

I found a red rock the other day.

It was embedded in the driveway. Dark red, like a brick. More polished, nearly shiny. It was really attached to the driveway. I had to get my leatherman out and use the screwdriver to pry it out. I took it home and my grand daughter and I washed it off. Seems bits of the driveway were quite attached to the rock as well. I put it on the windowsill above the sink. In the morning the sun shines on it. The rock likes this. While it was so very attached to the driveway, it's better to be in the windowsill where the sun shines on most all of you in the mornings. The sun doesn't reach everywhere though. Not underneath. Not on the side facing inside the house. This is as it should be. There should be secrets. The rock doesn't want the sun to see everything. The rock doesn't want all it's hidden bits to be illuminated for all to see. We all have our dark bits. We all like to sit in the sun sometimes. It seems we're all red rocks sometimes, attached and embedded in the driveway. Torn out, scrubbed up by old hands and tiny hands. So we can sit gloriously in the sun. Sit there in the sun but still keep our secrets. Hide our dark. It's a dark red rock. I like it quite a lot but I don't exactly know why. Maybe it's part of my heart. That part that turned to stone. Maybe not though, just maybe not.  

(c) 2017 John P. White