Observation Narrative - Worry Stone
The boy wandered through the aisles of the large crystal shop, awestruck at the many shapes and colors that each crystal came in. He stopped often to pick one up in his small hands, running his thumb over the either smooth or rough surface, admiring that the earth could create such beautiful objects all on its own. It was while he was doing just that with a piece of Amethyst that his mother approached from behind, gently touching his shoulder. “We have to leave soon, dear. Please pick one you'd like,” she murmured quietly. The shop itself was nearly silent despite the many people browsing it, the only sounds being the shuffling of their feet and the light music that played over the speakers. The small child felt his heart drop, looking up worriedly at his mother. “But Mom! They're all so pretty. How am I supposed to choose?” He asked, clearly upset that he couldn't have them all for his new collection. She simply shrugged and smiled as she told him, “ just pick whatever feels right honey.” With those words, she walked away to go admire the larger crystals. Exasperated, but determined, the boy began searching the crystals with an actual purpose. In the back of the shop, where hardly anybody went, he found a shelf full of what looked like wooden ring boxes. He picked one up, gently, curious as to what the box may contain. When he opened it, he was shocked at the beauty within. “This is it,” he whispered softly to himself as he gazed upon the small gray worry stone inside. It was simple, and didn't sparkle like the other crystals he had seen. The small stone sat inside a bed of purple velvet, and he found when he ran his finger over the stone, it was almost as soft as the very bed it laid in. He put his thumb in the divot of the stone and was shocked to find that it fit perfectly. Although he was old enough to know it wasn’t true, the boy couldn’t help but feel that perhaps the he and the stone were meant to be. He gently closed the box, running (well, moving as fast as he could through the crowded shop) to his mother. Once he found her, he was beaming up at her while he presented to her the boxed stone. The older woman smiled down at him approvingly, “Alright honey. Let’s go home.” Together, they walked up to the counter, paying for their crystals and leaving, the boy more ecstatic than he’d been in a long while.
