Rocks on the Porch

 In the late eighties, my husband and I decided to build a house on acreage we owned. First, we sold the house we’d live in for about fifteen years. Then we moved into a small house in a crowded neighborhood so we could build our house with no pressure concerning our previous residence.
The acreage we owned contained pockets of big rocks—some huge flat slabs of limestone, and many odd rocks we called cannon balls. These round rocks ranged in size from a tennis ball to a big bowling ball. All were made of red sandstone, and we thought perhaps they were geodes, but after cracking several open with a sledgehammer and finding no pretty quartz crystals, we concluded they were red sandstone through and through.

I saved three that were the most round and had little angular protrusions making them vaguely look like Sputnik. Our rental had a tiny covered front porch. Since we had the house crammed and the patio, too, I lined the three rocks along the wall of the house on the front porch. Big one, medium-sized one, and smaller one.

One day when I arrived home after a long day of teaching, the doorbell rang. There stood two young men, all cool and cocky, selling some kinds of books. I said no, I don’t believe I need any books. Oh, please, they said, you’ve got to let us give our pitch—we get points for that. How long is the pitch? I asked. About ten minutes. No, I said, I just don’t have the time, and besides I’d be wasting your time, because I’m not going to buy any books.

They became a little angry, and one said I should at least support them by listening, because here they were working like crazy, and I sat in my air-conditioned house. By then I had become slightly mad, so I excused myself. Have a good day, I said, and closed the door. One of them kicked the door. I let it go and went back to my work.

In an hour, my husband came home through the front door because the garage was stacked wall-to-wall and to the ceiling with appliances and boxes.

Honey, he said, your big rock is missing. What?? Oh, I was so mad, and explained it had to be those boys who took it. Probably they smashed it somewhere. I was really angry at those rude young men.

About that time, the phone rang. A young mother I knew lived three doors down, and she said, Celia, I need your help. Will you walk down here? Since you’re a science teacher, you will know what to do. Hurry, she said, I’m a little scared.

What is it? I asked. She said, I think it’s a bomb that dropped from the sky, maybe from space. It has things protruding from it and it’s making a hissing sound, like gas or something escaping. And it must have fallen from a long distance because it made a depression in my yard. Come quick and tell me what to do.

My husband walked with me, and both of us were a little unnerved. Since I am skeptical about almost everything, I wondered, what is it really? At the edge of her yard, she called from the porch to walk around that area by the sidewalk. I looked down, saw the depression, and in it was my biggest round rock. And yes, let me tell you, I heard a hissing sound.

I wanted to laugh, but the hissing sound bothered me. My husband squatted and rolled the rock to the side a little. Under there was the round metal cover over the water main. And yes, it was making a little noise like s-s-s-s-s-s-s.

I called to her. It’s safe to come over here. There’s no danger at all. When she stood beside us, I said, that’s just a rock. In fact, it’s my rock.

She frowned and said, I don’t believe you. You’re just saying it’s your rock. It is, I declared, and I proceeded to tell her my story about the young men. Soon the three of us were laughing our heads off, and she said oh, please don’t tell anyone about this. I told her, Honey, I have to. It’s too good to keep secret.

She said you’re going to tell my mother, aren’t you? (Her mother and I are good friends.) You know I will! I can’t keep it to myself! She laughed some more, and we went home with my rock.

When I see this young woman at her work place, she starts laughing. We both remember the funny story, and she always says, you were so sweet not to call me stupid.

Celia Yeary-Romance...and a little bit 'o Texas
http://www.celiayeary.blogspot.com/
http://www.celiayeary.com/

New Releases
Texas Promise-eBook-Desert Breeze Publishing
Making the Turn-print & eBook-Wings ePress