Whenever something good happens, I pick up a rock. Then I bring it home.
It’s a little ritual I use to help me remember special moments in my life, and I have rocks from all over the world.
Including Spain! I picked them up off the ground in a tiny town in Spain on the day El Hub asked me to marry him. Funny story: Those rocks almost didn’t make it back to California, because on that same trip, after we left Spain, El Hub and I took a old, slow-moving overnight train to Portugal, where I packed up the rocks and a few other souvenirs into a flimsy cardboard box, which we shipped from a Lisbon post office.
At the last moment before taping up the box, I wrapped the contents in a thin sea foam green floral maxi dress I got at an H&M in Spain (This was before the chain had arrived in the U.S., and their clothes were very exotic to me.), just in case the box ripped open.
It’s a good thing I did because that box didn’t arrive in California for more than a month after we returned from Europe. I’d pretty much given up on seeing any of those souvenirs again until the box, broken and torn at the corners, showed up on our doorstep one day.
Somehow, thanks to a bit of shipping luck and that protective sea foam green dress, everything was still in the box, including my rocks.
Oh! — and I also have a red rock I picked up from the front of the OB-GYN’s office on the day I saw Connor’s heartbeat on the ultrasound the very first time. The rock reminds me of how happy and utterly terrified I felt when I saw that teeny, tiny white blip on the screen. I wondered, was this my only chance to have a child? And would she make it past the dangerous first few weeks? (Even on that day, I knew she was going to be a girl. Don’t ask me how, but I did.)
The polished green beauties at the top are the most recent additions to my collection, gathered from Moonstone Beach on the morning of my 44th birthday after I finished a jog along the beach.
Now they’ll always remind me of beachcombing and how loosey-goosey I felt after that run. They’ll go on my windowsill for a few months, and after that, into the special box where I keep the rest of my rocks! 🙂
How about you? Do you have any memory rituals? Little things you do to remember meaningful events?
Your friendly neighborhood beauty addict,