Wednesday, March 17, 2010

On The Favorite Rock

If you have nearby Peace Corps Volunteers come to visit  you over the weekend, the following conversation might take place:

‘So, what are we going to do today?’
‘I don’t know?’
‘Hey, do you want to go see my favorite rock?’

And then a hike might begin, out along narrow and muddy trails used only by shepherds and residents of the outlying dwars. The wheat is green and about eight inches high, the sky blue with engorged clouds meandering about it, the trail climbs up away from town. One of your visitors breaks the silence:

‘I can’t decide what is more sad, that you have a favorite rock or that we are excited to see it.’

Upon arriving at the rock your guests see that it is nothing more then a stone, roughly rectangular in shape, about the size of a sleeping dog. It sits alone on the side of a grass-covered hill. One by one, everyone takes a turn sitting on the rock, looking down at the valley below, taking a deep breath and letting out a sigh.

‘Yep, that was a pretty good rock’ everyone agrees as you walk back.

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