I learned to appreciate the small things.
I resisted it.
My heart crashed against it, like waves smashing against a rock –
and it hurts,
unfathomable,
wave upon wave.
I still dreamt the big things
– Momentous things actually.
I picked up a small stone.
It lay black and glistening in my palm,
soft from the weathering of the waves.
A small thing, but so perfectly perfect.
How old is it?
Where has it come from?
What has been its journey to take it here?
Does it grieve where it has come from?
Does it mind that it cannot go back?
It could not turn back the tide, as I cannot.
I do not want to appreciate the ‘small’ things.
But there it is – A small black stone to show me that acceptance can be perfectly perfect too.
