In the house of a girl who loves them, this one stands apart.
She’s got ceramic dishes, jars and Tupperware full of rocks and stones (though she’d need to Google to know the difference between the two). And, though once they belonged to Yosemite, Crater Lake, the Oregon Coast, Whidbey Island, now they just belong here.
Some between the wooden candlestick holders, others underneath the dome of the cheese plate or cradled in the apothecary jar.
Over days, they’ve mingled according to color and feel and ended up in different coat pockets and rooms across this elderly house, so they’re no longer vestiges of a specific trip, but mosaics of time and place. They’ve formed a picture of all that’s come before that feels solid and yet somehow always new as smooth sides and pointed corners fit into place.
Still, this particular rock — and it’s definitely a rock — is different, and you’ll know why when you see its flecked gray and pink. The sparks that catch the eye when you look from the right angles. And its shape. Really, it’s the shape that you’ll notice first.
This rock, front and center on the sideboard is the only true letter in the house’s bunch. Grateful, proud and leaning a bit to the left, it is most certainly an “L.”
Formed by the tumbling of Wallowa River, wedged among the thousands of others in the place where the kokanee taught life, she found this one. Or it found her, who knows.
Since her Sesame Street days, she’s gravitated to the L. With its rings of lovely and lalalalala, lilting lullabies, swirly cursive capital letters, love, life. Her own given name cradled three L’s in all.
Then came Larkin.
She married him, and so she’s one too. Like her fourth-born husband and three girls that carry the name like a treasure.
She holds the rock by its panhandle, and it looks like a boomerang and a state — Idaho or Florida — depending how you grip it.
She thinks of the ways she’s a boomerang, too. Searching the corners and coming back home, always returning.
The ways she’s like a state, immovable, unshakeable, holding firm.
She’s layers of slate, basalt solid, and don’t mess with my babies, or you’re going down.
She’s pebbles scattered along the side of the path. A part here, a part there and over there, too. Feels like she could nearly be picked up by the wind somedays.
She’s smooth side strength and shelter in her cragged places.
Sometimes she is river rock patient, worn by the tumbling until some parts near rub smooth.
But maybe her insides are most like the walls across the ocean, where young Beatrix drew and wrote, near the lakes, between farms. The walls built by generation after generation of farmers. Those low walls that come just about waist high. Those good neighbor fences.
This woman, and you too, I’m guessing, is a shape built bit by bit over time into something completely her. She’s all kinds of things. She’s an L, and she’s more than that. You can’t really box her in. She’s connected to times, places and family that are her, become her.
This groove holding that, this oval cradling the nearly square one beside, with all the spaces in between. Your side mingling with hers.
__________
Today, I’m joining up again with dear Amber Haines of The Runamuck, as we continue our exploration of voice in writing — using words we can see and touch to express things we cannot. Please visit Amber’s to read her glorious writing and that of other writers and friends who link up there. This week’s piece began with the prompt “ROCK.”
Second photo credit: here.
Connecting through the power of stories written, spoken and lived
What a beautiful essay!!
Thank you, Luanne!
This is about as beautiful a piece as I’ve ever seen here. And (truth told) I’ve never seen anything here that Wasn’t beautiful. Like you, rocks speak to the deeps in me. And you, dearest heart, speak deeper still.
i *L*ove this piece! It belongs in your book! :)
I love how you get this love of mine, Mama — after all, you helped put it there — and how you appreciate the ins and outs of what I’ve written here. It’s so good to be understood…you rock! :-)
I am so amazed how how one word prompt draws out such different writes. This speaks so richly of you. You tell beautifully of you, your life, and yet it has a thread of every woman in it too. Ashley I love that this is rich with specificity. That pulls me in, its like an intricate painting or an elaborate melody in a song. I lean into it and feel so filled and full and satisfied when I am through. You gift never ceases to amaze me. The layers of your art are truly a masterpiece. So love writing on Mondays with you.
Elizabeth, thank you so much for your words, friend. It is a joy to write at Amber’s with you. Trying to recall…isn’t that how we “met” in the first place? I so appreciate the ways you express your response to my words. I’m always amazed where ours go with these prompts…aren’t you?
Hi dear Ashley
Life does have a way of shaping you into a special person, doesn’t it? Without us knowing how and when, we are all shaped by our Pappa also through the trials of life into the bride of His Son. This is so mysteriously beautiful, my friend! Thank you.
Much love and a blessed week
Mia
Shaped through life and trials, transformed by God over years….that’s right. Thank you, dear Mia.
Oh, I LOVE ROCKS and the ONE ROCK that keeps my feet from slipping. And I LOVE your voice, dear friend. This piece is so rich and beautiful, I need to read it slowly once again. (If only the bus wanted rumbling up the hill!) Thank you for this gift today.
Oh, yay, Alicia! You’re a ROCK GIRL, too! And amen to the One Rock that keeps our feet from slipping…that’s the One underneath all I processed through in writing this piece. The mighty, unshakable, unchanging one.
This is delightfully layered, complex and creative, Ashley! I feel like I got a glimpse of some of the history and layers of you, the makings of you, the edges and textures and lines and colors of you – and still, at the end, left with some mystery. For, as you said, these things are not all of you, for you cannot be boxed in. This really is a beautiful piece of writing, friend.
Dear Amber, I love how we’re getting to know each other through our words. Like you said learning of the history, the layers, the textures, the colors and still the unknowable. It’s always such delight to share this space with you, friend.
Wonderful, beautiful! I’m so blessed to be writing with you at Amber’s.
Same to you, Amber. This is a blessing, is it not?
I appreciate every word spoken. I share your love of rocks as is evidenced in every corner of our house. I never have however looked at them the way you so beautifully described. Looked at myself as clay more so. Transforming for me today as I stand gazing at haystack rock on our bedroom wall, and notice the words inscribed on smooth stones on our counters in a different light.
You are a rock person, too, Deb? I had no idea. :-) Clay is a great metaphor for us humans in the Potter’s hands, isn’t it? Haystack Rock on your wall, words on smooth stones…sounds like my kind of house. :-)
Beautifully rendered. They are silent keepers of our past, wise, observant and individually expressive. They are firm, immutable and timeless.
Silent keepers of our past…what a great line, Papa. For some strange reason, makes me think of the children’s book, Sylvester and the Magic Pebble. If you haven’t read that, we should together sometime.
This is beautiful!
Thank you, dear Kari! So grateful for your encouragement this week.
This is beautiful, friend. I love how these prompts flow so fluidly over different thoughts and concepts and you end up with a clear picture of what you value. I can see how the L’s and your old home, and your trips and travels all make up a piece of you. I think of my kid’s obsession with rocks and the boxes filled with them in our home, picked up while we were living our days. I think I’m going to try to play along one of these weeks. I love what you guys do with these words!
Thank you, friend, for receiving those pieces of me — disparate though they can seem when I write them out.
There’s something so dear about those childhood collections…those treasures of theirs. How sweet.
I would love it if you would write along at Amber’s sometime. Like Five Minute Friday, you just never know where that one word will lead. :-)
I love that you are describing yourself, and unafraid. Worn smooth in places and perfect for the fitting together of the saints!
Fitting together of the saints…love that, Tresta!
I think it’s because of ‘will and restraint’.
Sent from my iPad
Thank you for commenting, Grandma. :-)
I just started following your blog and it is a blessing to me and I also wanted to also mention that I am awarding you the Liebster Award check it out here. http://reina4jesus.blogspot.com/2013/01/liebster-award.html
I look forward to reading more of your posts!
God Bless,
adrienne
Thank you so much, Adrienne! I truly appreciate you awarding me (and following my blog). I look forward to checking out your space, as well. Blessings to you!
The Lakota’s say rocks are our oldest relations and they call them the Grand Fathers. I am so fond of this piece because of my “rock” connection and because I share this so much with your mama. I swear, the two of you echo and mirror each other with your gift from God for expressing in words that which is beautiful, grounding and uplifting! Love me fellow rock pals, both human and of this Planet Earth :)