If I Were a Rock for a Day

Oh what I’d do if I were a rock for a day

Oh how happy I’d be to be a rock for a day

If by some miracle a higher power said, “Hey there, you there, would you like to be a rock?” I’d probably say, “Yessir,” without a second thought

And if by some miracle I were given the chance to choose what kind of rock I’d be, I’d say, “A small one…a pebble perhaps.”

I suppose one might see the life of a rock as a boring one, a no-fun-at-all one, a what’s-the-point-one, or even a why-would-you-even-want-that-were-you-loved-as-a-child one. One might even gasp in disbelief to find that for some there is an irresistible lure to being a rock for but a day. And to this I would like to offer my humble thoughts on the merits of being a rock.

To begin with, the details.

I would ideally be a stone of a few shades of gray small enough so that I would not have to fear a soft breeze sending me astray but not so large I would be obvious and a protrusion. Perhaps sized just so I could fit comfortably in a closed palm. I would not be very porous, smoothed by the elements, and because I would have been smoothed by rain and shine and everything in between, I would be round. I would not be a sphere type of round, but rather a lumpy oval not quite flat enough to skip, kind of round. That is the kind of rock I would be.

I fancy myself maybe in some sort of forest, near a stream–if not in a stream. It would be a clear running stream, far from the chatter of humans and bugs but not from friendly birds stopping by for a bit of a drink. If I had the choice of being a rock in a stream, I would like to be only partially in the stream–if I were allowed that much choice. Perhaps the rock equivalent of dipping my toes…

On the fortuitous day that I would have been turned into a rock, it would be a sunny spring day, a cloudless one. The lovely blue sky would be visible through the reaching green crown of trees and I would be just barely in the river with it running slowly, calmly past me. There would be just a hint of shadow cast over me but despite it I would be able to feel the gentle warmth of the sun.

As I rock I would not have to worry about my legs tiring from standing too long, my back aching from sitting too long, my throat parching from lack of water, or my stomach tightening with pangs of hunger. As a rock I would not have to deal with thoughts whatsoever, none of that for-what-reason-was-I-put-on-this-earth business, oh-I’m-so-alone-despite-being-surrounded-by-so-many business, what-is-love-and-will-I-ever-find-it-or-do-I-already-have-it-but-just-don’t-know-it-because-it’s-not-not-the-traditional-conventional-love businesses, who-am-I-why-do-I-feel-such-a-lack-of-identity business. I would just be a rock. Enjoying myself. That is, as much as a non sentient object can enjoy itself.

And it would be a perfect day, just me–the rock–, myself, and I in a golden green forest with not a care in the world.