This boulder on the side of a small neighborhood road generally goes unnoticed by the few who pass by. I don't know if others ever remark on the size of it or give it much thought. For me, it's a different story.
As I revisited it today, I was surprised that the once worn down path along side of it is no longer visible. When I was growing up, this was one of our favorite spots. We would crawl up the hill, which I admit I tried to do today and it was more difficult than I remembered it to be.
This is the best view of the top that I could get, as I didn't trust myself to go completely behind like we used to do. There are fallen trees where we would have played.
We spent a lot of time up here and when the rare car came up the road, we would hide up top behind the rock, sometimes imaging we were Indians hiding there waiting to attack the unsuspecting travelers. We felt satisfaction when we were undetected, happy to have fooled them. We never did reveal ourselves. We didn't want to divulge our secret.
This rock was a part of my childhood, a treasured memory, a favorite place. A few years ago when I drove by, I saw a couple of kids playing up there. I felt pleased that others had discovered our secret place and were enjoying it. Now there aren't any kids in the neighborhood. The worn down path is not visible and downed trees block the top. Kids now like to play with electronics or are too busy with school sports or activities. I wonder if anyone will enjoy this spot again. For me, I just smile and remember that simply a rock can bring me joy.
"For who is God, but the Lord? And who is a rock, except our God?" Pslam 18:31
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