Stones

years ago, back when we used to spend our vacations in oludeniz, my sister and i, two skinny little girls, our dad on the lead, we would rent canoes from our hotel and paddle to the other end of the lagoon, a pebble beach. the hotel beach was fine sand, good for sandcastling but we would miss the stones, we wanted what we didn't have. so we would paddle on to 'kum'burnu -kum means sand in turkish, but 'cape sand is not sandy at all-, park our canoes and start collecting pretty stones as if they were treasure. our canoes loaded with hundred little stones, each selected with utmost care, we would paddle back to our hotel. taken to our room, those stones would lose their sheen. after the polish of the water and the glint in the sun is gone, stones were stones not jewels. i would still take back some of them home with me. my mom would not let me keep them in a bowl full of water, saying they would gather moss. well, maybe, yes. still, i wanted back the thrill of the instant i found the perfect stone...
...that's why i kept collecting stones in calis beach after we moved to our summer house. i would spend so much time sitting on the beach, waves crashing on me, that tiny stones would fall down to the floor in the shower. the sound of it, thin, bouncy.
this one summer, lying face down on the beach reading a book, i happened to be heavily in love when i found a heart-shaped stone right by my towel. i didn't hesitate for one moment to take it as a sign that my feelings of intense longing were justified. we were meant to be. i kept the stone. my heart broke but the stone didn't, stones would rather erode. that takes time.
and time didn't seem to do anything to the stones in Pamukkale where the ruins are, stone tombs scattered around, emptied of all worldly riches and flesh and bones. there is a pool there, not like any pool you've seen. columns and blocks of stones inside. we would swim our way through them in the thermal water. that water is supposed to leave you glowing, healthier.'the pool of the ancient stones'.
and here where i'm from, you can't sit on stone even if you wanted a cool surface under. there will always be some older lady around to tell you not to sit on stone. 'you'll get a stomachache,' they say.
there is a game we used to play with five stones. Cem will remember the days we threw one pebble up and pick another before the first one falls into your palm. that is if you are quick enough to snatch both. then all three, then all four. come second stage, he will beat you under any circumstance. the master of five stones.
and then there's the Rolling Stones. whose song 'anybody seen my baby' has given my blog its name.
see, you throw a stone, and the ripples travel far, far away.