Hands in my pockets...

Hands in my pockets...
I have had the pleasant smooth surprise of a polished rock in my pocket the last couple of days. There is something to be said about the benefits of a forgetful mind in this case as it is so sweet each time that my little fingers discover my rock. Why do I have a rock in my pocket? Have I regressed to the age where it makes complete sense to pick up anything that ignites the senses and hold onto it without the “knowledge” to know that your special item is anything but the most special thing in the world? There might be a little of that, but the real power of my little special rock is in the ability it has to connect me to my grandpa. My grandpa used to have a rock smoother in his garage. He would collect rocks from the road trips my Grandma, his sister my Aunt Nellie, and him would go on all over Canada and the States. When he got back he would pick out the special ones and place them in the smoother. There they would tumble around and around, rubbing against each other and the sand that he added for what seemed like forever. When we would go visit he would take us out to the garage and open up his magical rock machine and show us how the rocks were doing on their journey to becoming smooth and polished ... and maybe just maybe ours. He had an organizer in his office with little drawers that he would keep the rocks that had finished their tumbling times. He would let us pick out our favourites and tell us about where they came from and how long it took them to become polished and pretty. Then he would let us decide if we wanted a key-chain or a necklace ... or if we just wanted to take our rock as it was. My favourite, I think because they were his favourite were these black ones from Alaska that were translucent when you held them up to the light. I don’t know when he stopped turning on the tumbler ... maybe when they stopped traveling, but I had not thought about grandpa’s rocks in a long time. On Wednesday I went on a date with Rohit and after tea and the book store we went to milestones. And holding the bill was a shiny polished rock. I instantly thought about my Grandpa and was transfixed by that little rock as I shared with Rohit about my Grandpa. My Grandpa has been fighting bladder cancer for years and has had a really rough little while the past year. It is hard for me to be so far away from him. Now every time I find my rock I will think of him ... and I will tell him about the rock in my pocket. I hope that that makes him feel loved and closer to me.
In my other pocket a mitt-full of pennies has accumulated. I had to start putting my change in my pocket because the change purse in my very special red butterfly wallet has a big hole. I decided that I was going to start dropping luck in my trails. I wish that I could follow those pennies on their luck journeys. Any ideas of the luck that my dropped luck might bring?
And yes this is getting long but we must not leave you without information about Rohit. Rohit is a man with the biggest dimples that I have ever seen. He has a great story and I think he is on a grand adventure. He moved to Toronto in October to go to the Toronto Film School. He is following his heart after working in the business world for 5 years. He loves to read and loves Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. He reminds me so much of Wilbert and so by default found a soft spot in my heart. He shared about growing up in India and going with his father on ships in the summer. I really enjoyed my time with him and hope to see him again. He did not let me forget that I inadvertently called him weird and in all fairness I deserved that. Bite your tongue now and then girl : )