December 2018 Second Place: Stacked Stones by Arit Adjoa Amana

Stacked Stones

By Arit Adjoa Amana 

They say that walking is good for more than just your body, that there is an alchemic reaction that takes place when you move. Something about the air, your breath and your surroundings, that interact with something in your mind and create substance. Kweku tried to explain but I wasn’t interested in understanding. Walking is walking. Putting new steps in front of old ones. Getting where you need to go.

But then I couldn’t.

When it happened, people said all sorts of things, to my hearing and in muffled whispers, in over-bright tones and in pitying expressions. I didn’t care what they prognosed. I would walk – I was determined to.

And I did.

Five minutes from the house, there’s a vista overlooking the ocean. Kweku and I used to amble past it, heading to or returning from more ambitious destinations. Weeks before the accident, when we got to that spot, he reached down and emerged with a flat jagged stone about half the size of his hand. He turned it over and over as if entranced. He showed me even though he knew I wasn’t interested in seeing. Then he placed it on a large boulder, reached for my hand and we resumed our journey back to the house.

I walk to this place often now. It no longer takes me five minutes, but it also no longer takes me 23. When I get here, I find a stone. I take a moment to look at it, turning it gently in my hands. Then I leave it to rest on top of other ones, on top of a jagged one, upon the large boulder. 

Arit is a Communicator specializing in Storytelling. Over the course of her career she has developed stories, learned from stories, shone light on stories and empowered people to tell stories. She leads a Creative Writing group based in Arlington, MA.