Stones and Arrows
There is a little up arrow in my dashboard that lights up every time I should shift to the next gear. My car thinks it knows how to drive better than I do. My car is an arrogant little prick. I still pat it lovingly and encourage it up the hills every day because it doesn't realize what an arrogant prick it is.
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Six years ago and in Guatemala I entered a jewelry store. There they sold the finest jade. I bought a turtle-pendant necklace for my sister that hung from a lovely silver chain. To delight me, they gave a piece of uncut jade with my purchase.
"This has problems many" the jeweler told me in broken English. "It is not good for making jewelry."
I replied back in Spanish to say that was too bad. I assured him the dull, unfit stone would find a home with me. When I returned to the states, I found the small rectangle of jade fit perfectly over the small panel that held the offending arrow in my dash. The little blinking wouldn’t bother me any longer.
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For the past six years, whenever I am on a long trip and in fifth gear, knowing the arrow will hold his peace; I remove the stone and rub it between my thumb and forefinger. It's a nervous habit as much as it is a way to pass the time. For the past six years though, it hasn't escaped my attention that the stone is becoming more and more beautiful with every passing drive.
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Six years ago and in Guatemala I entered a jewelry store. There they sold the finest jade. I bought a turtle-pendant necklace for my sister that hung from a lovely silver chain. To delight me, they gave a piece of uncut jade with my purchase.
"This has problems many" the jeweler told me in broken English. "It is not good for making jewelry."
I replied back in Spanish to say that was too bad. I assured him the dull, unfit stone would find a home with me. When I returned to the states, I found the small rectangle of jade fit perfectly over the small panel that held the offending arrow in my dash. The little blinking wouldn’t bother me any longer.
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For the past six years, whenever I am on a long trip and in fifth gear, knowing the arrow will hold his peace; I remove the stone and rub it between my thumb and forefinger. It's a nervous habit as much as it is a way to pass the time. For the past six years though, it hasn't escaped my attention that the stone is becoming more and more beautiful with every passing drive.
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