Bubbeh's Stone

It was at the tender age of sixteen that I realized that I was plain. I could handle short and flat but plain added insult to injury. Teenage angst overcame reason coloring my world a nice shade of plum. It was during this time that I learned a most wonderful lesson from my Bubbeh. The boys had long since headed for The Woods to scare squirrels and build forts as I sat hunched over my pint jar of "cow" milk like a lone drunk on Sunday coming up only to trace a pattern on the scrub worn table and sigh. Bubbeh was busy at the other end of the table wrestling a challah into submission seemingly unaware of my tortured existence. I wasn't surprised because no one else seemed to worry that my world was slowly imploding. Upon finishing the braided loaf, she softly talked to it in Hebrew put in the oven and turned her attention to me. "Well, it would seem to me that someone might not be happy." She poured herself a cup of coffee and sat opposite of me. "Oh, it's nothing, really," punctuating with a heavy sigh instead of a period. "I know I don't know much about these modern things. For example, this music you listen to with the loud screaming, it wears me through." I smiled. She understood music, modern and master, she was a wonderful musician, but she liked to make these little "old person" statements. Her soft hand touched mine. I loved the feel of her hands and the light scent of lavender that lingered with her touch. "No, modern I don't know, but I do know my ziskeit. You are very unhappy." I lifted my eyes to meet hers. How can so many years be bridged when eyes meet? How does one soul know it has found the safe harbor of another? Even now, I still wonder; however, in that moment I knew I could trust her with my heartbreak. "Please don't laugh," I begged softly even though I knew she would not, still something in me needed reassurance. "Between the two us there is only love no laughter." "I'm plain," I didn't mean to cry but it seemed so silly and painful at the same time. Once it came out and mingled with reality, it sounded so harsh. "And don't tell me how pretty I am because I know it's not true. I'm just plain." "Well, now this is not what I expected to hear but I think that I can help." She stood up and walked to her bedroom. It was just off the kitchen and I could hear her talking to herself as she searched through her closet. I always loved that about her, the way she puzzled things aloud. Finally, she came back into the kitchen holding something in her hand, hiding it from my view until she sat down. "This is one of my dearest possessions. It was given to me by my Zaideh when I was a little girl to explain the secret of life." She placed before me the ugliest stone I had ever seen. Actually, it was half a stone. It sat in front of me a little dome of ugly. "This, ziskeit, is you." I could have died, there before me was my life and future, or lack thereof. I wasn't plain I was ugly, a little ugly half lump of a rock. "Well, thank you, Bubbeh, but I didn't need to be reminded. I shouldn't have said anything." I stood up quickly pushing the chair behind me fully intending to storm out of the room. "You will sit down, young lady, and listen to what I have to say." "Yes, ma'am." "You see only the outside of my little stone. Yes, it is not a pretty thing on the outside but every time I look at it I see a new swirl of color or little wrinkle because I know its secret." "Secret?" "Why, yes, there is more to this little stone then what you see on the outside." "Right, the inside looks like the outside. It's just an ugly old rock." "Oh, excuse me, Miss Modern Teenager! I forget how much more you young people know." The edge in her voice told me that I had crossed the line and needed to retreat. "I didn't mean any disrespect, Bubbeh, it's just, well, it's a rock like any other rock." "Turn it over." "Ma'am?" Very softly, she repeated, "Turn it over." I touched the rock tentatively slowly turning it over. I gasped at the beauty within. It was an amethyst geode. I was in awe. "It's beautiful." The word could not adequately capture what my eyes, my heart, my soul embraced but it was all I had. "We are all like that little rock, ziskeit. On the outside, the world can only see one side of us but that is not the most beautiful side. What is important is the inside, that's where the real treasure lies." The little rock sits on my desk, a little lump of ugly. It sits there waiting for one of my students to ask, "Why do you keep that ugly thing on your desk?"