
She spends her day gathering pebbles. Some small, some large. Some hidden beneath huge boulders which she must move using all her strength, huffing and puffing .
Some pebbles are smooth and shiny, reflecting the rays of the sun.
Others are dull and weathered.
Some are heavy.
Occasionally she finds the really sharp ones.
She is careful to not cut herself when she handles them.
She picks them all with the same determination, the same might.
And they all go into her straw sack.
By evening the sack is heavy, it can hardly move. She carries it over her shoulder, and must decide, does she take the heavy sack home and find a space in her little house for those pebbles? Or does she carry them over the hill and lay them by the ocean, walking home with a lightened load?
Today she leaves the pebbles along the shore.
And then smiles as she skips home.
She opens the door and sees yesterday’s pebbles lying by the entrance.
There’s a few more on the stairs upto her room. There’s several by her bed.
She must remember not to bring them home. But it’s so easy to forget.
She reminds herself to take some of these back to the sea tomorrow.
And after that she will continue her journey, gathering pebbles.