The Life of the Rock

Sometimes it’s not even the big waves that get you.

You are a rock.

You’re on the beach, and you’ve experienced countless waves; the initial impact of the crest as it breaks, the mass of water carrying the inevitable mass of debris past you, and then the same mass of water receding away from the shore.

Sometimes the weather is calm and the waves are gentle. Sometimes the wind blows steady and the waves are relentless. Sometimes the sea rages, the waves crash against you with unfathomable power. Those days don’t happen very often, and you somehow manage to hold your metaphorical grip on the sands. You are a sturdy boulder.

However, even after the storms, the waves keep coming. Minute after minute, hour after hour, day after day, year after year. Gentle, but persistent; weak, but unyielding. The skies are calm, and you’ve withstood far more than this without being caught off guard, but why? Why are you dying?

Little by little, the waves erode you. Pieces of you are left behind and lost among the serene seas. Fragments break loose and become embedded in stones. Then, one day, a particularly large wave comes and doesn’t push you away.

No.

It explodes you.

You turn into sand.

The waves keep crashing on the shore.