To the store to post a rock to Chicago, and then to the southern tip, where the effect of the glacier could be seen gorged into the black rock. The ocean washed into the crevices, sucking and gurgling with each ebb and flow, deepening the cracks in their persistence.
I came upon the boulder split in three that the geologist spoke of on the way home - not sure how I had missed its enormous mass before. As big as a house, settled in the middle of a field like a giant, half-submerged animal. Walked around it slowly, noting (with a little fear) the face-like shapes cut into its edges, and a rope on one side for children to climb up onto its mossy back. The wind blew and everything seemed to move and shimmer except the broken boulder. It was both fragile and sturdy somehow - impervious to its surroundings, but also entirely affected by them in a most vital, significant way.
