“Even the smallest stone has survived countless waves.”

The sun was just starting to come up when I walked along the shore. The sound of the waves was really nice in the morning air. I bent down. Picked up a small stone. It was smooth and cool in my hand. For some reason I did not let it go. As I kept walking I found myself picking up stones. Each stone was different. Each stone had its story that the sea had made.

When I held each stone I felt like I was getting pieces of calm. The stones were something in a world that never stops. The ocean kept coming out. It was loud and restless.. My hands were full of quiet stones that did not move.

When I finally stopped my pockets were heavy with stones.. My heart felt lighter. I smiled because I realized that sometimes simple things, like holding a stone by the beach remind you to slow down and just breathe. The stones, by the beach were really nice. Holding the stones made me feel better.