A Good Rock

Dear Darling Ones,

I frequently like to tell my BFK that I’m going to invest a lot of money into crystals and place them around my house for the benefits of their juju. Or vibes. Or whatever.

“You don’t really believe in that, do you?” She asks, her face scrunching up in an expression halfway between skepticism and concern.
“Not really,” I’ll say. “But it can’t hurt!”
Or I’ll say, “No, but they are pretty.”
Or, “I do really like rocks.”

Then she rolls her eyes at me.

But I really do like rocks and I’m convinced that i would finish all the books I started writing if I had some banded carnelian up in this hizzy. Some lapus lazuli would probably also help matters.

For real though, I do like rocks. It started when my niblings were little. Kids love to give people cool rocks. There was the summer of 2008 when Jaycie got really into painting rocks and handing them out. Mine was the orange one pictured about with the leash. My pet rock. We call him Spike. He still lives on the TV stand to this very day. There’s also a lavender rock that one of the Nibs gave to me on the TV stand.

In my bedroom there’s a “hobo rock” on the floor near the door. It’s been there since we saw Kit Kittredge, also in the summer of 2008. Apparently that was a rocky summer.

There’s some actual factual crystals in a small box on the back of my couch. They were a Christmas gift from Jaycie and her boyfriend.

And there’s one very good, tiny grey rock I keep on the window ledge.

I’m telling you about all these rocks, because my Uncle Danny is not doing very well and he also has a fine appreciation for a good rock. Danny is my mom’s twin brother and lived with my parents from 2014 to 2021, when he moved in with his son.

My mom called today tell me about Danny’s precarious situation, and I am wrecked. She cried when she told me the news. “It’s just so soon,” she said. Afte rall, her husband just died.

Despite being twins, my mom is not rock appreciator.

One night at family dinner, Uncle Danny found a small rock on the floor in my living room.

“I found this,” he said, holding up the rock.
“What is it?” My mom asked.
“A rock.”
“Wendell likes to play with it sometimes,” I said, explaining why there was a random rock on the floor.
My mom held out her hand to Danny in the international sign of give it to me. “I’ll throw it away.”

Danny snatched his hand away from her. “No,” he said.
“No!” I said in unison.
“It’s a good rock,” he said.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “It’s a keeper.”

Oh, Darling Ones, I’m so very sad. This is a lot of loss to face in a very short amount of time.

Tearfully yours,

UPDATE OCTOBER 28: Despite all the dire predictions and much to the surprise if his doctors, my Uncle Danny made a full recovery. Things are looking good today and it was so nice to hear the relief and happiness in my mom’s voice when she called with the news.

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