RIVER ROCK

Catherine had driven past the rock shop countless times without ever stopping, but today she had the urge to see if there might be something there to highlight her new decorating scheme.  On entering, she noticed a bin labeled “river rocks” and stopped to take a closer look.  One particular piece of pinkish gray granite with veins of green and black caught her attention.  I wonder, she thought, what distant mountain birthed this stone, how it was washed out of the ground by spring rains and whether it plummeted over a waterfall as it made its way down the river , tumbled over and over until it was finally plucked out of the water and landed in this shop.  Still pondering the convoluted natural path the stone had taken to present itself to her, she went to pay the man at the cash register, intrigued by her find.  “Like that rock?”  he asked.  “My grinding machine does a great job!”