This is my rock. Large, smooth, and just far enough off the road so I’m not in danger of passing cars threatening to skid some skin off my shin.
My rock served as a place of refuge. Refuge from a frightening reality. My rock welcomed me in the warmth of the sun or under the midnight stars.
My rock never disappointed. It was always there… undiscovered, all mine.
My rock never judged me. Not even when I was at my worst, a crying blob, or in rebellion of the cards I was dealt. Not even then.
I know my rock waits for my return. I have no doubt about this. I’ll be back for a visit one of these days to say “thank you” to an old friend who made me feel safe and loved.