The small, oblong rock filled the palm of her hand. “A reminder,” she whispered.
Sarah had forgotten about the rock in her pocket. She had found the rock while hiking during a mountain writing retreat. The stone had caught her attention as she followed the slender trail that wound down a ravine and then up to the top of a mountain. She stopped, examined its unique form, picked it up, and slipped it into her pocket.
I will remember this week. She mused while turning the stone over in her hand. This writing retreat when I knew with all certainty that my path through life was to be a writer.
After the weekend, Sarah returned to the hustle and bustle of her life. The weeks passed and with them, those sweet memories of the writing retreat. During her worst days, doubts assailed her like a grounded soldier pinned down by mortar fire. Bullets of “you can’t” whizzed by her head. Doubts exploded around her, and she found herself giving way to anxiety. Moving forward felt impossible. Just holding onto hope was hard enough let alone crafting anything interesting.
The ink dried on the end of her pen. No creative words graced her thoughts but only worries. I wonder whether Kyle will be ok. Surely the rent money will come. Why do I feel so tired? I hope I’m not sick.
Then just before she blanked out and completely forgot her new resolve to pursue a writer’s life, she slipped her hand into her coat pocket while on a morning walk. Her fingers formed around something solid and yet smooth. “The oblong stone,” she cried. Tears filled her eyes and she let out a sigh, “the reminder.”