Maybe I am stone instead -

Today I picked up my sorghum mill from my parent’s place. It was the only thing that appears to have survived a devastating fire.

I have been struggling a bit recently and seeing this little apartment today has made me wonder what I am made of. What in me will survive, or be recognizable under pressure? What in me will be utterly destroyed by the turbulence of life? What in me feeds the flame? And what will remain? If I am reduced to my foundation who am I? I would love to say I know the answer. I can say quite confidently a list of attributes that I would like to be true. I do not feel as strong as steel - not these days. But there is always something that remains. I am reminded of the old homesteads with chimneys still standing in stubborn defiance of time and weather…the whole place then springs to life so vividly in my imagination, what it must have been like... Maybe we are not all meant to be steel, or cast in the same mold… Maybe I am stone instead - off balance, tucked away beneath the overgrowth in some secluded grove. I will be a rock collector and gather up the pieces, lay them out for examination and the mason in me will fit things back together and set it all to rights.