The Mother Stone
Well, I keep a small black stone in a creature bag at home. I found her illegally on a mound in 1992, and what I love about her is she sits in the palm of my hand if I hold her and—it’s a her, the stone—I get it out of the bag anytime I need a mother. My mother’s long gone, but I call this my mother stone, and she just sits there and I think about it for a while. But she’s very comforting, and she helps me find my way when I’m in a puzzle, and she also is a friend. And I always know where she is, which is very good. Sometimes I show her to people, but I don’t always. And sometimes I show them to my grandchildren and they’re puzzled, but I think they appreciate the fact that I’m a stone person, but that’s a special one.