Lyn’s Rocks

I cleaned the patio this week.  It had been neglected for a year and it was quite a mess.  Weeds encroached the borders.  Leaves and dirt had found refuge in every nook and cranny.  It wasn’t an easy task but I knew it’s what you would have done if you were here.

Remember the corner with your tiny rock collection?  I do.  I remember I made fun of you every year when you would tediously remove the rocks and clean out the corner.  Then you would meticulously return each little rock to its place.  “Perfectionists should not do yard work,” I’d say with a smirk.  “If given a chance, you’d sweep all the dirt out of the yard.”  It didn’t deter you.  “I would never do that,” I declared while watching you replace each rock.

Why didn’t I help you?  I could have helped you.  While we worked we could have had some wonderful garden discussions.    Those opportunities are gone like the morning dew under the afternoon sun.

I found out the rocks were Lyn’s.  She’s finishing her last year of college and was quite surprised you kept her collection.  So, I tediously removed the rocks and cleaned out the corner.  Then I meticulously returned each little rock to its place.  After all, who am I to break a bond between a grandmother and a granddaughter?

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