The Rock Jar

© shoutingforha

My boy likes to collect rocks. He is brings them home in his pockets. He loads them into my purse. He packs them into his luggage when we are on vacation.

These rocks commemorate special events in his eight-year-old life. They remind him of the places he has been, things he has accomplished or important events that he wants to remember.


Things like...

© shoutingforha

Two summers ago, we decided to hike up the first Flatiron in Boulder, Colorado. As a former native of the Rocky Mountain state, can I tell you how hard that climb was? Fourteen years living in the lowlands of Tennessee has reduced my lung capacity to that of a mouse. The boy loves how this rock looks a little like a Flatiron.

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This rock was taken from my in-law's old house. I have a picture of my two-year-old boy, sitting in the yard, with his prized rock in his hand. The house was sold just months later after my father-in-law passed away.

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This assortment of rocks came from the icy waters of Martha's Vineyard. On the ferry ride over from the mainland, the boy gave the hubby his first "tighter-than-tight" hug. That's Ha house language for when the boy squeezes our necks as tight as he can until we scream for mercy. I can still picture his diaper clad body, splashing in the water, searching for special rocks to bring home.

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Every time we go to Colorado, we stay with my sister and her hubby. They have a quaint mountain home situated on several rocky acres that back up to miles of undisturbed forest. The hubby and the boy always take a hike up to "Big Rock," the highest point within a reasonable walking distance from the house. This rock, found on one such hike, sits in a place of honor next to a photo of my two guys perched on top of Big Rock.

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This rock comes from a national monument that will remain nameless, plucked from a spot that was clearly marked "Do Not Touch." It was secretly stowed away in a pocket without my knowledge.

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This is my boy's most treasured rock... "Secret Rock." As soon as the boy could walk, the hubby started taking him out for a special boy's breakfast on Saturday mornings. They eat pancakes and bacon at their favorite restaurant and then walk around our quaint town. Now that the boy is older, their adventures have morphed into more grown-up activities.

As a tot, one of my boy's favorite things to do was to walk along the top of a Civil War era rock wall that encircles an old church in our town. This rock was hidden in a crack on that wall. Each week, they would sneak up to the hiding place and casually look to see if their treasure was still safe.

The boy decided to bring the rock home after a storm damaged the wall. He was worried that his rock would be lost once the work crew began the much-needed repairs.

© shoutingforha

In addition to the rocks, the jar holds some random pieces of wood, a few marbles, an assortment of seashells and an acorn. My boy picked up the acorn in the Public Garden in Boston. He carried it in his pocket during our entire visit in Beantown.

I love that my boy is so sentimental. He has a deep desire to stay connected to his past; a trait that is rare in someone so young. I have a feeling that his rock collection will grow as the years continue to pass by.

I think he is going to need a bigger jar.