It was smooth and angled in triangular shapes. Cold to the touch at first but quickly warmed when you held it. The comfort of its weight in my hand reminded me of all the things I had seen. I would put it down for a minute only to be drawn to pick it back up again to feel its cold rolling in my hand. I can’t remember where I got it, or how long I had it with me. It was part of what made the earth so wonderous. variations even in this seemingly plain object that made it one of a kind. If you looked closely there were always fingerprints on it from days of worry. When the clouds of life came it was my talisman. It was the mark of the strong in old times, or so I have read. maybe that is why it seemed to punch a hole in even the darkest days to show a silver lining.
The day I lost it was a brilliant day where I hadn’t noticed. I hadn’t needed it. When I noticed its absence I searched anywhere it could have gone. I was heartbroken to have lost such a piece of my life. It had seen me through so many confusing, chaotic times. It didn’t define me as much as it was just part of who I was. I tried to find another at the store like it but they all felt alien in my hand and seemed to lack the abilities mine had. I thought about it for weeks and felt my luck must be really getting bad.
A month later when the storms of life were threatening, I dreamed it was in my hand again. I woke rubbing my fingers together with nothing in between. This must be the storm that was going to take me then, into the pits of despair. Just when I thought it was the end of everything I was, I absentmindedly stroked the round green stone I had found in the driveway the day before. It wasn’t my worry stone but somehow it felt right. The clouds didn’t just part to allow some light in, they were just gone and I was covered in light and good feelings. So I didn’t find what I needed but instead it found me.