At the community centre, where the path by the soccer field meets the sidewalk, there rests a smallish boulder. There’s nothing remarkable about the boulder: it’s kind of irregular and greyish and doesn’t do anything other than sit there and be granitey. I can’t fault it for that, I suppose… rocks just aren’t into the active lifestyle.
Yesterday morning, as I passed the boulder, a woman stood regarding it in deep contemplation. Then a thought seemed to strike her. After glancing furtively left and right, she carefully bent over and planted a kiss on the boulder’s rocky pate. Before I was even certain of what I’d seen, she disappeared down the path.
What a tender moment, I thought. What would make someone take such interest in a rock?
Back in her impressionable teenage years, I would guess, she must have seen some graffitti that changed her life. I can imagine her feeling a little lost and confused (as teens often are), turning a corner, and seeing the giant, spray-painted message, “Kiss Rocks!”.
The message must have hit home. From that moment on, I imagine she has always taken a moment in her day to spread love to the oft-neglected monoliths. As we all should.