A cool, misty morning, feathered rain a soft, delicate drizzle as I walk along the beach in Horseshoe Bay. The dog sweeps off to the small dunes checking new scents; waves swish close, then further away, closer still, never the same, a Zen-like swirl across the sand.
I remember the stone in my pocket, the one I’d bent towards and picked up on this same beach some weeks back. How when I touched it it felt so healing, embracing, charged with light. I’ve kept it close since, just holding it, having it close to my desk, the bed at night.
Today I feel it is time to return it to the sea, to let it go, not hang on to it no matter how beautiful it has been.
Gently I place it in the water, watch the waves roll in, think I hear the stone chatter, a conversation with water molecules, busy and happy, stories rippling like the colours of the sea, stone, sediments of time.
I’m glad I let go, that this stone has passed through my life, touched me with a grace and tenderness, reminded me of the joy of soul, of connection.