Crying Rock


















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I remember riding in the family minivan past Crying Rock upteen million times as a child. It always amazed me, and in many different ways as I grew older. Now at age fifty-one, tooling down the causeway in my sports car, I pass it again on this brooding day, and find it again calling to me.

Local legend has it that a fisherman's wife who's husband was lost at sea, came to this rock to look for him for so many years, that her tears carved her likeness on the little peninsula. It is also said the land feeling her dispair, let the tears carve her likeness, so she could watch the sea for his return for the rest of time.

When I was a child, the stories were more dangerous and scary. Things like her body was still enshrined in the rock, and if a child disturbed her crying, she would break free of the rock and eat them. Once as a teenager, some friends of mine and I had to test the tale of disturbing her. We managed to climb to the top of the hill and touch the crying rock. None of us died from the experience, but I do remember feeling an overwhelming emotion of grief.

Now as I pass her again, a lifelong bachelor, I wonder why I've never found a woman who's love was so intense, she would cry for my loss for years. Is there something about sailors that deserve and attract that kind of woman? I had come close to marriage three times in my fifty-one years, but never felt confident that my prospective partner would stand by me and weather the storms of marriage.

Though sailing has been around for thousands of years, it has only been in the last two hundred years that ships had a sure way of knowing their position. This came with the way of calculating longitude. So being lost at sea, didn't mean the ship had sunk necessarily, but may be truly lost. Thus the poor crying woman of the rock, did have some hope of his return. It wasn't as if she was waiting for him to come back from the dead.

Now I find I'm dying, the son of an only son, with no children to carry on my name. Some rare and painful disease racks my body. I accept my death, and even look forward to the release from pain. But I leave this world, with nothing left behind. I wish I had found that love, which was like a rock I could depend on. I think I'll have my ashes spread on crying rock. While she awaits her husband's return, I'll await my true love.

 

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