Anissa (uberspiral) wrote,

Rose Rock

At work, a wide-eyed little girl stood staring transfixed by many things, but I couldn't give her the bookstore's bird or the tall ceiling. "Hi," I said. "I like your Raggedy Ann." She looked up and said, "Thank you," in awe. "I had one when I was about your age." "Oh," she said. "I did too," said her mother. "And Andy. I used to carry them both around just like her." The girl clutched at her doll, evidently proud to be compared to such mature women. "Hey," I said, "Do you like these?" I pointed to the rose rocks she was staring at atop the register. I had brought them in in the first place, and had more, so I said secretly, "Do you want one? They're called rose rocks, and they're formed by water and wind wearing it away into roses. Aren't they pretty?" She nodded. "Really?" "Yes," I said. "This is for you. Keep it safe." She looked at it spellbound and attentive as ever, placed in Raggedy Ann's pocket at her mother's suggestion. "Thank you," said both the girl and her mother, and she took her wide eyes outside to learn and explore more.

Tags: gift
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When I was her age I think it was those strangers like you that pulled me out of something akin to autism (ASD's?) Bless you for reaching out!
My pleasure honestly, children are some of my favorite things in the world. Thank you, it means a lot to hear that. Maybe someday she will see that rock and remember me.
I still remember the first other person I ever met with the name Dean which, particularly at that age, was an unfortunate name to have because of all the green-bean-type-theengs it rhymes with. He was a washer repairman who had come to, yanno, fix the damn thing, and it was one of those "what's your name, sonny" exchanges. Only when I finally worked up the courage to tell him he said, "Wow, that's my name, too. Better take good care if it!" I remember thinking at the time that if he made it to adulthood then maybe I could survive it, too.