We weren’t doing much more than this…
Sifting through rocks. Fingering the pretty ones. Skipping the flat ones.
When my husband dug with his toes in the sand. A meaningless gesture.
Except that from that scraped sand spot our daughter knelt and lifted up a pretty rock.
One with deliberate little nicks around both sides that came together at a point.
And had a leveled bottom.
And looked just like something we’d seen in the museum at Rocky Reach Dam.
Like an arrowhead.
We’d covered some ground this week. Romped with cousins; ate an excess of hot dogs and bloated on ice cream; stacked drift wood; jumped off swings; batted tennis balls; skittered around in swim suits.
But this special find…this piece of the past…
This is what she’ll remember.