A few weeks ago, a neighbor boy, about 9, found my large piece of rose quartz during a game of hide-and-seek with some other neighborhood kids. He asked if I had any other rocks. I showed him a few. Now I am the local expert on rocks. He has been buying (well, thanks to Mom) pretty rocks at a local thrift store, and even a very nice lined box to keep them in. He brings every new rock for my inspection and asks good questions. I wish I knew more.
Monday he found me volunteering at the same thrift store, a few minutes before my shift was over. When I was done, we looked for rocks together at the main store and the new annex. Then he spotted the jewelry store across the street (small town).
“Maybe they have some diamonds there,” he said pointing. I warned him that the rocks in that store would be much more expensive, but we went to see.
I explained to the jeweler: “He has just discovered ‘rocks’ and thought you might have some nice ones.” We walked around and looked, saw some diamonds, I explained about birth stones. Then he spotted a pretty deep royal blue stone, smaller than half my pinky fingernail [I have small hands], and asked how much it cost. I must hand it to the jeweler. He treated my neighbor with the same respect as the older woman who had just been there and was obviously a regular customer.
The jeweler pulled the stone [in its personal little holder] out. “This is a blue sapphire,” he told us as he checked the price: four digets starting with a 2! Yikes. Surprised me! He let my friend hold the case and look closely.
My neighbor missed a beat hearing the number. It was one of those losses of innocence that life throws at us. [Fifteen dollars is his idea of a lot of money. Relativity, but different than Einstein’s theory.] My neighbor recovered quickly though, asking a couple of questions and learned the word “lapidary.” Then we looked at a few more “rocks” on our way out.