In the late 1960's my Dad found a rock in the woods. Rock, as in boulder. Dad, my brother Kevin and my unbeknownst to me then - future husband, John, moved the boulder to our home on 25 Teresa Street. Moving the boulder was no small feat ... just ask my brother's 1950's Radio Flyer wagon.
After many years "planted" at 25 Teresa Street (us that is .. and yes, the rock), our family moved ~ most of us in different directions.
This past Spring, almost two years after the death of my father, I mentioned in a family email that if I could have something of Dad's, I would want the rock. But the new owner of 25 Teresa had a built in pool put in the backyard ... so the rock was lost.
Later that week, Mom asked me to walk with her to the very back of her yard, under some overgrown trees. There, half buried, muddy and barely recognizable was "the rock." Dad had salvaged it from its former home .. and here it rested for many years.
The rock was later moved to my house, and today it again stands erect. The mud will slowly wash off to reveal the apricot color. It once again shows off the intricate angles and points that captivated Dad many years ago in the woods. And now, its beauty can once again be enjoyed by those who pass its new home.
"For all my children ..."
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