One evening, The Goat (hubby) and I were discussing our day, when he said something like, “all I did today was chuck rocks” (he’s a mountain bike trail steward). I said something about it being a big deal to the rocks, how else were they going to get anywhere? He snorted and told me to write a story about that. So I did. 😉 Here it is.
What I wouldn’t give for another ice age, or maybe a good seismic shift, like an earthquake or a volcanic eruption, something to shake things up around here. It’s not likely to happen, though. Well, I suppose an earthquake is always possible. But the last trembles were more than a few seasons ago, and I believe I’m too far from any fault line to experience any noticeable movement on my part. I might shimmy and shake, but I’d likely remain right where I am. Sigh.
I’m just so bored. Since the last ice age, after that nice glacier carried me along, melted, and abandoned me here, it’s been nothing but freeze, thaw, freeze, thaw. Warm season, cold season, warm season, cold season. Wet and dry, wet and dry. I used to count the seasons, but lost track centuries ago, possibly eons. And so I sit here, right here. In the same place. Stationary.
I really shouldn’t complain. After all, the glacier could have dumped me in the bottom of a river or lake, or the top of a mountain where precipitation and wind would have worn me to bits much too soon. But it didn’t. Instead, thankfully, it dropped me here.
Here, I’m surrounded by little ones, the bits and pieces chipped, chiseled, cleaved, and eroded from the giants. The little ones are so noisy! Surrounded by them, I’m forced to listen to their constant prattle. They drone on about where they’ve been, rolling around the earth wherever the wind or water carry them; tumbling over giants, swirling down rivers, bouncing off bigger ones like me.
I was once a giant. But it was so long ago, before I gave up counting the seasons, even before the glacier left me here. I can’t recall what it was like being a giant. I suppose the giants hate listening to me as much as I dislike listening to the littles, I’m not even sure the giants can hear the littles. That’s probably good, since the giants have even less a chance of moving than I do. Lodged into the earth as they are, they’re only possibility of a new view is being eroded or hewn into smaller ones, but I suppose if I don’t remember being a giant, being carved up into others isn’t a great option.
At least the giants occasionally see life, creatures like to crawl and climb over them. I’m not big enough for climbing, I get stepped on occasionally. Unfortunately, the bottom of creatures’ feet aren’t remarkably interesting. Some are padded and soft, and those double footed creatures have been covering their feet for a while now. The coverings are not as nice as the bare padded feet of the four-legged creatures, but they’re better than the hard surfaced feet, or the ones with claws. I don’t like the hard surfaced or clawed feet. But, stuck here as I am, I rarely get trod upon.
I can’t wait to tumble downhill. I have my hopes, a rock can dream. Someday I’ll move. Even just a few feet. The view would be entirely different. Some forward movement would be wonderful. Even backwards would be welcome. Or sideways. I’ve just been here, wherever here is, for so terribly long. Eons. Eons staring at the same sky, watching trees sprout, mature, die, and new ones repeat the cycle. A few visible trees ago, one of their roots nudged me slightly westward. That was nice. But I haven’t moved since then.
Those double footed creatures have become more active around here over the past, I don’t know how many seasons, but it’s been more than a few. I keep hoping they might nudge, drag, or move me somehow. But not so far. Their activity around my location increased recently when many of them replaced their feet with rolling feet. Oh, how I wish to roll! Now and then one of them rolls over me. It’s not quite pleasant, nor unpleasant, mostly, it just takes me by surprise. Startles me. I get my hopes up, thinking this time I’ll move or shift. But I never do.
And so, I sit here. Waiting for another ice age. Waiting for some sort of upheaval. Waiting for an ice flow to freeze into something large enough to carry me some place new. Somewhere else, anywhere else. Waiting. I wait through all the cycles, temperature changes, and weather. I wait here. Always here.
Wait! What was that? That was a definite thud. A double footed is moving things. What is it doing? It’s using its top feet, the ones it doesn’t walk on, to carry things and move others, littles and ones like me. It’s chucking them. Heaving them over the hill. I can hear them rolling and thudding to a stop. It’s picking them up and tossing them. They’re flying! They’re moving.
Oh, could I be so lucky? Will it pick me? Please, pick me! How can I get its attention? Maybe if I think really, really hard I can force it to hear me.
Pick me.
Pick me.
Pick me.
What’s happening? I’m not on the ground. I can’t hear the littles or feel any dirt. The creature is moving me! It tossed me! It threw me!
WHEE! WHEE! WAHOO!
I’m flying! I can’t believe I’m fly…
THUNK!
I’ve landed. I’ve landed someone that wasn’t where I was. I’m somewhere new. New. I’ve moved. New sky. New trees. New littles and giants. I’m not where I was. I’m no longer there, now I’m here. I’m here. Here is somewhere new.
This was the best day I’ve had in a very long time.
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