My husband doesn’t like the rocks I collect. They are everywhere. I find random ones I’ve picked up along a hike or walk, forgotten, weighing down most of my jacket pockets. Occasionally, I find one in my pants pocket as I’m sorting dirty laundry. They join the others who sit in a line on the counter in the laundry room, waiting for a more permanent location.
Great post, Laurie! I have a few rocks that I keep on my desk - they're adorned with a few painted notations that hold meaning for me. And I have another that is intricately painted by a friend. It's a work of art that makes a beautiful paperweight. I can't think of anything that I collect these days - a tiny attempt at simplifying life. One thing that strikes me about your post is how often things (tangible and intangible) from our younger years are so much bigger in our memories than they are in reality. Going back to revisit them can sometimes help us to put them in their proper scale.
Great post, Laurie! I have a few rocks that I keep on my desk - they're adorned with a few painted notations that hold meaning for me. And I have another that is intricately painted by a friend. It's a work of art that makes a beautiful paperweight. I can't think of anything that I collect these days - a tiny attempt at simplifying life. One thing that strikes me about your post is how often things (tangible and intangible) from our younger years are so much bigger in our memories than they are in reality. Going back to revisit them can sometimes help us to put them in their proper scale.