I found a rock the other day, and I think I’ll give it to my friend for her birthday.
An odd choice for presents, I know. It wasn’t even a particularly interesting rock. Not some bland, grey piece of gravel, mind you, but it wasn’t some fancy geode or amethyst or anything either. Just a rock, reddish, with a line of quartz going through the middle.
But really, this rock doesn’t symbolize prettiness. It doesn’t symbolize something that bears one or two viewings. I don’t want her to think “Oh, what a gorgeous thing you’ve gotten me to put on my mantelpiece or desk or whatever, and look at once in awhile as it gathers dust, and to think later ‘what will I do with this?’, only to have to discard it as my mantel gets cluttered.”
Instead, I simply want to say, “Here as a thing, thousands of years in the making, found, picked up, and given to you, a being of only a hundred years, give or take, for you to consider in its own way. You make like it, you may not. You may get rid of it, you may not. You may decide it’s deeply meaningful, or a worthless piece of crap and I just didn’t listen to your wants and desires. But it is, and it is for you.”
I hope she likes it, but even if she doesn’t, it did its job.