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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