by ottersong
© 1999 ottersong, all rights reserved
"You are my rock." she had said.
Once upon a heart-ache, my lover of seven years decided to leave to follow a glittering girl. I had been deemed drab and rather un-exciting, left behind in her drive to feel alive.
The sun rose and set, season followed season, and my full and happy life rolled by with an occasional twinge of that memory.
We have talked throughout the years and she has shared with me her grief at losing the orginal glitter and her joy at finding another. She has always told me l am her rock. I, being me, enjoyed the lively chat of her conversations when she chose to call. She told me of businesses they started, books written and published, pets acquired and lost, and sadly, of the medical report that the new sparkle had multiple sclerosis. Over the years we have chronicled the advance of the wretched disease and her loss of companionship, sparkle sits in a wheel-chair and is no longer any fun.
Things came to a strange turn last year when she asked me to live wth them, she said she has no-one to talk to and is very lonely. I gracefully declined the offer.
She called last night, she needed to talk about the necessity of having sparkle institutionalized. She reinforced my belief in my value as her rock.
The only difference is that l know, and have known all along, that l am a geode. The influences from the outside serve only to lend tints of rainbow hue to my crystalline heart. If you can only see the surface of life and not depths, look not upon this dull rock. I save my crystal's brilliant gleam for the seeker of my truth.
For you see, l am a rock.
_____by ottersong__11/98