The Pebble

a short story

One warm day, a boy went on a walk. After wandering aimlessly for a while, the boy sat down in a field to think. In front of him lay a pebble.

Though it wasn’t remarkable in any way, this small rock caught and kept the boy’s attention. Perhaps he considered kicking it away. Perhaps he wondered if someone else had kicked it to where it lay now. Perhaps he contemplated the neverending cycles of life and how the pebble fit into them. Perhaps, in that way that men are able to, he didn’t think anything at all.

Then the boy went home.

The next day, the boy went on another walk and ended up in the same field. The pebble was lying in the same place.

When he got home that afternoon, the boy made a decision: someday, he’d bring the pebble home with him. Not yet, but someday. After all, the pebble might be gone tomorrow. What if heavy rains washed it away? What if strong winds blew it away? What if some like-minded fellow noticed the pebble and took it to his home?

But the next day, the pebble was still there.

Remaining unsure, the boy returned home without it again. He went back to visit the pebble every day, and every day it was lying in the same place. Spring, summer, fall, or winter: the pebble was still there. Sometimes the boy had to squint to see it through dense fog. Sometimes he had to clear snow from the ground, losing his bearings and barely finding the tiny stone. But every day, the pebble was still there, waiting for him.

It was a weary pebble, the boy thought. It was lonely and tired. It was a heavy pebble, slowly sinking into the ground where it lay. He resolved to bring it home before it was completely buried in the mud.

But for now?

The pebble waits.