“Move them the other way!” Jackie cried out. “Not that way, they’ll fall on top of you.”
The rocks they had placed outside their grandfather’s workshop, piled up in his shelves, they now were removing, though not all. The two children had petitioned Aunty Jackie to keep. as though tools, some rocks that pleased them most, and she had asked their grandfather for permission—the rocks would have to be small and particularly pretty, and in an afternoon the children had taken pains separating the rocks into yeses and maybes and definitely nos. Aunty Jackie had brought them ice-creams, and astoundingly they been left to melt. The children though had sucked the ice-cream through the paper packages without complaint when they were ready.
“Aunty Jackie my eyelid hurts,” Rebecca said. She was rubbing at it.
“Let me see,” said Jackie.
Rebecca pulled away a sooty finger, winked one eye which quivered and was shiny red with some irritation.
“Well,” said Aunty Jackie. “You have bits of rocks on your fingers and you’ve probably been rubbing them, you need to stop.”
“But it feels good.”
“Well then.” She shrugged her shoulders to emphasise an ultimatum.
“Come look!” said Davy. “Quickly come look!”
Rebecca, grumpy and frown-faced, turned and walked, uninterested now toward the rocks on the floor. Davy had split open one of the rocks with a tool Jackie recognised from her childhood.
“Quickly, Rebecca, quickly!”
Jackie wandered over to the children. Inside the rock Davy had split was a pattern of crystals.
‘That’s a geode,” she said. “That’s special, he’ll like that.”
“We have to put it together,” Davy said. “Get the glue, Rebecca, quickly!”
“There’s no need for that,” Jackie said. “It’s fine the way it is; even better. In fact I’ll put it in his study,” and quietly she repeated into the fragments of coloured crystal what had first come to mind; “These are special.”