A few weeks ago Jake and I came home from the library to find a big rock in our driveway. It seemed a little out of place there amoung the well groomed lawns and flowerbeds, and I almost ran over it with the car.
"Jake, please get out and move that rock." And he did. About 2 feet. Oops, forgot how literal he is. Need more instruction, here.
"No sweetie, please put it across the street."
So he meandered across the street and placed it there before scampering back to the house with his backpack and school books.
The rock made me wonder. What was that all about? Why would someone place such a large rock right in the middle of the driveway? I wandered around the house, inspecting the lawn, the siding, the windows, almost expecting to see something broken. Nope. Everything was fine. Even Jake's herbs were happily untouched, sprouting merrily in the summer sun.
All was well.....
...until the next morning. As Hubs left for work he commented that police cars were at a neighbor's house. I later heard that many houses in our neighborhood had been struck by vandals overnight. Trees and plants ripped out and discarded in the street, windows were broken, lights smashed, and cars were damaged.
Our house was untouched.
I immediately thought of the rock. Was it a marker? Did we somehow disrupt a plan by moving it? Why did they skip our house?
It is a mystery, indeed.