I am dropping this stone in the lake for you.
The stone I carried back from the other side of the world.
The stone you had no use for.
So I am giving it back to the lake.
Letting it sink to the bottom, so that no other girl can pick it up and carry it back to a man on the other side of the world.
This rock (which I plucked from a glacier in New Zealand) holds layers of dreams that never were.
This dark-charcoal square-like rock, curved like a staircase to the stars
Maps our family.
Our son.
Our stone-home.
Curved like a staircase going nowhere, but to the bottom of this lake, where it will rest easy.
No longer in a holding pattern.
But nestled under soft waves, caressing its very existence.
Happy and calling to be let in.
Sinking down into its cool, deep nest at the bottom of the lake.
Back to it’s home.

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