“You can only take one rock,” explained Lydia’s mother.
As the two walked, Lydia bent down to pick up smooth stones from the beach. Each stone was a different bright color, a gift from the tumbling ocean.
Her hands moved across the wet sand to touch the scattered treasure.
One polished stone seemed to shine like an emerald, but when she looked at it very closely Lydia discovered it was mostly a colorless gray.
Another oval stone was glossy black with shining silver flecks. Where the ocean’s recent touch lingered, the silver glittered and gleamed.
One strange bluish stone contained many tiny holes, and Lydia put a hole to her eye to see if she could somehow see through it.
One crystalline, pearly white stone had already begun to dry out and lose its luster, turning dull.
Another bright reddish stone seemed perfectly round, like an agate marble, but a crack ran through it and part of one side had chipped off.
To Lydia every single stone at her feet was a precious jewel.
She wanted to fill her hands with treasure. But she knew her mother was right. Her small hands could manage just one.
She reached down and took the nearest rock.