Box of Rocks
I got a box of rocks
Simple stones to the many
I got a box of rocks
And each means the world to me
I don’t know their stories
I do not know their tales
But I know they came from you
So any other story palesI took one out to held it in my hand
I remember you used to keep it
By the fireplace on a stand
I then recalled the good times
All the times we used to share
I recollect the memories
Of when it rested thereNow that rock is at my house
And upon my desk it sits
So now I get to reminisce
When ever I look at it
And here that simple stone will stay
In a place where I can take a hold
A thousand single memories
Each more precious then gold
My grandparents used to go on road trips yearly with the kids (You know, the type that the family on Dirty Dancing did, but without the sex) and from the various places that they would go too my Grandfather would often pick up a nifty stone or two. They had dozens of these rocks, many of which they had up on knick-knack shelves, around the fireplace, and some in the garden. Growing up I always thought the rocks were cool, but never really put much thought into them till recently.
My grandmother moved from Battle Creek to Holland and most the rocks made their way there as well, though they were no longer displayed out in the open. Most were tucked into corners of the basement never to be seen or thought of again. When my Mother started to collect things to move down here to Tennessee she asked me what I’d like from my Grandmothers (as they were starting to clear the clutter) and I remembered all the rocks she had. It was those that I wanted.
The rest of the family thought I was strange, but I really do not mind. Each of these stones has a story, and now those stories belong to me. Each of those rocks has a memory attached to it from some fun filled adventure or vacation…and while I may not know all of those stories, I now have the cause for the fond memory 
Yeah, greedy on my part, but I find more pleasure in the simple things like these rocks, then something that has no sentimental value or something that only has a monetary value.
Of the things that are my grandmothers, its actually these silly rocks and a few pictures that I actually love, as I have a personal memory attached to many of them.