Ralph led a difficult life, characterized by the deep set lines mapping his face. His hands were knobby and worn with evidence of callouses from holding the implements he used to garden. He loved gardening. Seeing the tiny shoots of new life breaking through the soft, dark earth seemed to him to be evidence of a fresh start to life. Watching the plant grow and then blossom into a full-blown flower gave Ralph a sense of completeness.
Ralph was wearing his old suspenders, as he always did. More than holding up his trousers, they also gave him a holding on point when talking to the passing neighbor. His shirt sleeves were rolled to midway between elbow and wrist. The red flannel was beginning to show wear at the cuffs, so he rolled them.
The hat he wore was encrusted with dust. At one time it had been a fancy black fedora. Now it showed the passage of years and the sweat stains of a hardworking man.
Dirty, crude, misshapen, the rock lay discarded on the ground. Many had picked it up, studied it, and then discarded it. Finally, still bruised from the elements, the rock was chosen by one who knew what it was really worth. Carefully, and patiently he spent time reshaping and polishing. There were some painful times for the rock. These times called for cutting, chipping and abrasiveness. Gradually, it took shape into an item of great beauty. Another had pretended to see past the dirt and roughness, but had merely used the rock for a paperweight on his way to somewhere else. The rock had yearned to become an object of great value to someone and had thought the job of paperweight might possibly be it, not realizing that there are millions of paperweights in the world and when a new one struck its owner’s fancy they discard the old. Not many people choose to spend the time and energy required to look for the gem beneath the surface. How many rocks are really valuable gems never discovered?
