The Stone That Wanted to Travel

On a mountain path there was a small grey stone.

Every day it watched shoes pass: shepherds’ boots, children’s sandals, walking sticks, paws, wheels. Everyone went somewhere.

“I want to travel,” said the stone.

The path answered, “You already see many travellers.”

“That is not the same. I want to see the sea.”

One morning a child named Elio stopped to tie his shoe. He picked up the stone and put it in his pocket.

The stone was delighted. It went down the path, through the village, past a bakery, onto a bus, and finally to the shore.

The sea was enormous.

“So this is blue,” whispered the stone.

Elio placed it on the sand near his towel. The stone listened to waves, gulls, buckets, laughter. In the evening, Elio wanted to take it home, but his mother said, “If it belongs to the mountain, maybe we should return it.”

So the stone travelled back.

When it returned to the path, the other stones asked, “What is the sea like?”

The little stone told them: moving, salty, bright, never still. It told of foam and shells, of children digging rivers, of the sun sinking into water.

From then on, the stone remained on the mountain path, but it was not the same. It carried the sea inside its story.

Travellers continued to pass. Sometimes the stone felt the old desire. Then it remembered: a journey is not only staying away. It is returning with a wider heart.

And whenever rain ran along the path, the stone smiled.

A very small sea had come to visit.