I Moved the Rock

For the sake of symbolic gesture, it became necessary for me to move a very large rock out of a ditch and down a hill to a specific spot in our yard. Months ago, I attempted to move this same rock uphill and after one unsuccessful pull on the beast I decided that it was already in a perfect place. However, this time was different. This lovely thing just had to move.

So there I was, determined as all heck but after fifteen minutes I succeeded only in getting it up on one side. Covered with mud and sweat I retreated to my house where over lemonade I resigned myself to ask for help to move this ever important stone. I rationalized that it is good to ask for help, that I should not be so stubborn to do things on my own. This worked for about half an hour and then, still looking like something that had walked out of a bog, I faced the rock again.

I thought about the people who have done the impossible. I thought about the pyramids. This was a puny little obstacle in comparison and so I made up my mind to get the job done. After all, I only had to push it up and out of the ditch and from there it was all down hill. I heaved and tugged and grunted and groaned and low and behold, the rock cooperated. When I reached the spot it just had to be, I felt a surge of satisfaction. For the rest of the afternoon I felt like I could accomplish absolutely anything. Maybe I can.