Sandstone

Nothing could stand this much rain. The dust churned up in the fields today is stripped from the house. The rain seeps through holes in the gutter and pushes soil out of the hanging baskets. I should have been in bed hours ago but the screen door closes so softly when he's sound asleep.

Oliver Wendell Holmes wrote, "I wish I could paint her so as to interest others as much as she does me."

Day to day, it's easy to forget that I can't be smoothed. Only when I'm replete with time to ponder do I remember that life grits me like two pieces of sandstone struck against each other.