my attraction to hard, born through a lost memory,
existed,
created who I am.
an unusual warmth from the simplest of minerals I’ve grown accustomed to, need
and cannot explain.
I greet them, inspect
place them in my hand
and slowly they enter,
my pocket. Mine. My anchor.
each time I revisit the Rockies
the desire arouses
matures, alters in strength,
becomes habitual.
these rocks, their immensity
I want to claim as my own,
every year unwilling to ask
I leave, unbecoming.
*What I Would Have Shown You
Oldest Daughter & Red Headed Sister 
I love this! ❤️
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Aw. Hope you enjoy the series. ♡
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Sounds like a refreshing trip … one you really needed. Good for you, making the effort to get away before things could overwhelm!
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It was a nice trip. I cleared some thoughts and found some footing. Thank you, my friend.
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Always good to take a good memory with you.
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Important somehow, I believe. Am I trying to keep count or is it I need the reminder. Sigh.
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Put it in “notes.”
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*scribbles *
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😁
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I have a tendency to bring rocks home from places. I’m not sure what the attraction is.
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Maybe it’s having something physical to prove the moment existed.
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