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  • Writer's pictureOrganically Qi

Staring at my Rearview

Updated: Nov 23, 2019

It’s me. All of my worldly possessions and misty. On our way home.

Goodbye skid row, Goodbye extended acquaintances, linked relatives and third-party kin. If we cross paths again our connection to this moment will change. If I never see you again, I will never forget you. (I love this line, makes no sense).

I open my car door and climb inside along with a bag of pebbles I’ve collected. I have no space for the bag, so I open it with the intention of condensing its contents. I’m amused that the bag began as a small coin purse and is now a small backpack similar to that of a hiker.

I reach into the bag and begin to feel the pebbles. There are so many. I feel their beauty with my hands. Some are smooth and sincere; I smile as I think of the friends that I’ve collected while here. Some are sharp and firm; I raise an eyebrow as I remember those moments in which differences were revealed in my living spaces. Some are exceptional and fresh, distinct from any other pebble; This is the inspiration I’ve gained for my marque. I’m so grateful for all the pebbles that were hand-picked for me. These pebbles are pieces of the earth, made by the action of water or sand; or love or fearlessness; or growth or connection; or giving or accepting. I can’t wait to show everyone back home my pebbles. I may even give some away. I want everyone I love to experience these pebbles. I decide that I need to keep each pebble to feel them when I have a spiritual need, or to share but never to discard. I zip the bag and place it on the passenger side floor, then I spread my map out on the seat next to me, adjust my mirrors, turn on my tunes and embrace the open road, homebound.

I am finally home, at my destination, I cannot wait to show everyone my pebbles. I am greeted with the warmest welcome infused with hugs, kisses and even tears. I tenderly break free to return to my car to grab my bag of pebbles to share. What I discover is an empty seat, with no map, and no pebbles.

Immediately I wondered how I even got back home without a map or a guide. What is unclear to my naked eye, is simple and clear to my heart. All the lesson-infused pebbles, all the moment-infused pebbles, all the people-infused in my heart, lead me home. So I don’t have to tell anyone what I experienced. I can share, but they have to find their own pebbles, to lead them home. I just have to be, and they will know. That’s why it’s called home. That is, until the pebbles that I collect on this layover lead me to a new home. This was my first home, and these pebbles lead me here. So, Who am I to argue with a pebble?

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