There are people who go on vacations to lovely places – blue skies, cool waves, white, fluffy clouds, and white-sand beaches. They sit on the shore. The waves wash in. The waves wash out. Lovely.
Sometimes on the pristine white beach is a single black rock – solitary and beautiful in its difference. It’s not always on every beach but sometimes it appears.
Some people will sit in the beach, and they’ll stare at the rock and that small black rock regardless of its beauty will spoil that person’s day. And they’ll curse and gnash their teeth. They don’t know why but that rock has focused and honed and hardened their anger. It did nothing but be a rock.
There are others who will sip their drinks, and dangle their feet in the water and luxuriate in the beauty and be un-bothered.
There are those who’ll pick up the rock, and note it’s beauty. Some will keep the rock. Others will put it back, but they will remember the day, the blue sky, the beach, and the beauty and the sound of the waves as they wash in. And out.
Others will remember the rock.