The rock in my attic

She went to see John of God. I remembered when I noticed she had a bit of an incongruous tan. It's only March. Where would this tan have come from? Normally she's so pale, shunning the sun even in the summer. I couldn't help but notice the sunny color on her cheeks and remember, oh yeah...

"How was your trip? How was John of God?"

"he was wonderful!!" People describe John of God with tones of reverence and awe that somehow manages to elude all details that might tie things back to logic. Ahhh logic. Faith in little things that are a bit visible rather than that big invisible pinch hitter.

Then she runs away from me. A few minutes later she's standing behind me with cupped hands. Opening them I see a milky rock the color of peony pink.

"This was with me when I visited John of God, and I had it with me the whole time soaking up energy and Brazilian sun... and it's for you!"

I scoop my jaw off the floor and accept the gift. It's pretty. It tingles when I put it in my hand. I take it home. I rub it against the spot where my back aches. I put it next to my pillow. And then I go to sleep.

When I wake up I've left my body somewhere and I'm climbing a ladder into the attic. The attic is full of people. Some laugh. Some are sexy. There's tons of antique furniture and hangers full of fancy clothes. I'm bumping into people that I haven't seen in years. The attic is a fun party until that tune goes off in the distance which I know is my alarm clock. I waive goodbye and climb back down the ladder.

This could be yet another goofy dream of the attic. I've had those a few times in my life. But then the next night upon dozing off I find myself climbing those same wooden steps. I put on a suit from one of the hangers in order to enter and be properly dressed. This time the people are much tamer, sitting and talking, and I can spend my time rummaging through the antique furniture. I shuffle through papers and old trinkets. I look into antique mirrors and the face reflected back is always a different age. She's older in one mirror and a child in others. Somehow I have this thought that this is so much better than the attic of the place where I used to live. It's not as dusty and run down.

There, in the back of a drawer that I've pulled out of a mahogany chest, I find it. It's glowing through the cloth which covers it. When I reach in and grasp it and bring it out to see I'm surprised at what I find in my hand. It's the John of God rock.