“Hi, What are you doing? Are you beachcombing?”
I looked up and smiled. “Yes…and no, “ I replied. But I wouldn’t mind if I found a pirate’s chest full of treasure.”
“Treasure?” Justme’s face was quizzical. “Do you really think…………?”
“No!” I interrupted him. “ I don’t really think that pirates buried their treasure in this pile of shingle. I think faraway islands with lots of sand and palm trees were far better hiding places.”
Justme grinned. “ I think so too,” he replied.
He was quiet for a few moments.
“Well, what are you looking for?” he asked.
“I am not really looking for anything,” I tried to explain. “But that does not mean that I will not find anything. I was just looking at the stones. They are so pretty.”
“They just look like heaps of stones to me,” he said giving me the sort of look that questioned my sanity.
He ran off up the side of the pile and slithered back down on the shifting pebbles.
“They make a lovely noise.” He said with satisfaction and promptly repeated the action. I stood watching him. He was the manifestation of sheer joy of living. He made me laugh. Happily he crunched back to my side and watched as I carefully turned over a few more stones with the toe of my shoe.
“Why are you looking at the stones?” he asked.
“ I like stones,” I said. “And sometimes I find one that is special. It is a bit like when I was a child and I sometimes sat in the long grass and tried to find a four-leafed clover. I never, ever found one but I believe that they are there to be found if only I look in the right place long enough. The trouble with being a child is that you are quite new to the world and there are so many things to explore and so many adventures that are calling to you that you never seem to look in the right place long enough to find that special clover. It doesn’t stop you knowing that it is still there for you to find when you have enough time to look properly. Then, all of a sudden you are all grown up, and get on with living grown up things like, staying up late, going to work, getting married and having children of your own. When you are grown up you forget about things like four-leafed clovers. When you are grown up you go involved in your “grown-up-ness” that you forget a lot of things that are important – like looking for the first snowdrop, watching the bees in the flowers and listening for the first cuckoo.
“Growing up doesn’t seem to be much fun,” replied Justme thoughtfully. “Maybe “grown-ups” need to “grow down”, he grinned.
“You could well be right,” I chuckled. Then, on a more serious note,
“Maybe that is what the Bible means when it says that people will only be able to enter heaven when they become like children. Maybe we need to grow down.”
“I don’t think I want to grow up into a grown-up that forgets all those wonderful and important things.” Justme’s face showed concern.
“I am sure you won't, Justme,” I consoled him. “In fact, in my heart, I know you never will.”
Together we continued turning over the stones. Justme was quiet and thoughtful for quite some time.
“What makes a stone special?” he asked.
“It is nothing you can explain. You just know when you find one that it is special to you. It is almost as if it is calling out to you.”
Sitting on the edge of the groyneI picked up a handful of shingle.
“Look, Justme,” I said. All of these stones are different. Different colours…. different shapes… different sizes All individual and special in their own way.”
He studied them carefully, picking up one or two to examine them more closely.
“Hmmmm…. They are a bit like people aren’t they? All individual and special in their own way. When you see them in a heap they are like people in a crowd but when you look at them separately they all have something special about them.”
“Yes. That is right. Some you like better than others and some are really special – just like you”
I smiled at him. His face burst into a radiant glow.
“And just like you!” he said wrapping his small arms around my neck and giving me a warm hug. For a few minutes we enjoyed the glow of being special.
“Let’s go look for some more stones.” He pulled at my hand and together we strolled along the shoreline turning over the stones.
We worked along the shoreline for about half an hour. Watching him out of the corner of my eye I noticed the way he picked up each stone that caught his eye, examined it carefully, felt its edges and held it warmly in his hand before discarding it as soon as another one caught his eye. I realised that I was doing the same. And then, suddenly, sparkling at the edge of the sand was my special stone. I didn’t have to examine this one carefully. I knew the very moment I saw it that this was my special stone. It was completely round, about the size of a large marble, with a band of crystal sparkling through the middle. I picked it up and brushed off the loose sand. Holding it in the centre of my palm I felt the smoothness of the fit and watched the sun draw rainbows on the crystal.
Not wanting to spoil the game for Justme I still continued to turn over the stones but somehow the enthusiasm and concentration had gone. For me the game was over.
Justme scrunched over to my side.
“Have you found your special stone?” he asked
“Yes.” I replied. “But that doesn’t mean you have to stop looking for yours.”
“I found mine ages ago,” he said pulling a pebble from his pocket. “Look. It is very pretty and those dents in it just fit into my hand.”
He held his stone for me to examine. It was a smooth oval flint stone, full of pinks and blues and greys with hollows that exactly fitted his pudgy little fingers.
“It is very beautiful,” I said admiringly. “How does it feel?”
" Warm and comfy,” he replied. “Can I see yours?”
I pulled the stone out of my pocket and held it out in the centre of my hand.
“Yours in beautiful too,” he replied gravely. “That sparkly bit makes it really special.”
We both put our stones back in our pockets and began to walk back the beach.
“Are you going to keep your stone forever?” he asked.
“I will take it home and put it in the garden with some other stones. From time to time. I look at them and they remind me of special places and special people,” I replied.
“Are all your stones special?”
“They were all special at the time I picked them up but some have become more special than others.
Some were rather soft and have weathered badly. Some were inappropriate like iron pyrites. They shone brightly when I first found them but soon corroded away to a rusty dust. Some have stayed constant and true throughout time – changing very little. Some I leave for years without looking at them and find that are more beautiful now than they were when I first found them. They are all individual and special. They all have a lesson to teach me.”
“Like people,” he said wisely.
“Just like people”, I replied.
“What will this stone remind you of?”
“This one will remind me that to be “grown-up” you have to be “grown-down”,” I laughed.
“Hmmm.” He was thoughtful.
Back to where we started, I began to head up the side of Pebble Mountain towards the place where I had left my car. Nearing the top I stopped to look back and see where Justme was. He had crossed the flat sand and was standing at the edge of the water deeply engrossed in his special stone that he held carefully in his hand. A huge wave rushed in and covered his feet. He jumped and shrieked with laughter shaking first one foot in the air and then the other. I laughed too. I watched him dance along towards the sun splashing his feet in the water and squealing with delight. I felt the uncontrollable urge to join him and dashed back down the pebbles, across the wet sand and straight into the sea up to my knees, kicking, splashing and laughing as I went. The water was cold but it did not matter. I kicked and splashed in joyful abandonment – getting very wet but enjoying the fun.
“Are you alright?” That was NOT Justme’s little piping voice!
I turned round. A middle-aged gentleman with staid cocker spaniel was eyeing me suspiciously.
“Yes, I am fine,” I said still laughing. “We were just having fun……”
looked round but Justme had gone!
Suddenly, on my own, growing –down did not seem to be very becoming to someone who is supposed to be grown-up. I stopped laughing and began, rather sheepishly, to walk out of the water.
Watching the man turn away and continue his walk with his dog, the uncontrollable joy and laughter got me again. Sloshing along in my wet shoes I took out my special stone and held it tightly in my hand.
“This growing-down is going to prove very interesting,” I said to myself.
