When I was carrying the child, little things grew huge. I didn’t find the path, going in. I broke my way through the underbrush, and then I came into the circle.
“Well, as I say, it was my condition. When I was carrying the child, little things grew huge. I didn’t find the path, going in. I broke my way through the underbrush, and then I came into the circle. It was quiet, Joseph, more quiet than anything I’ve ever known. I sat in front of the rock because that place seemed saturated with peace. It seemed to be giving me something I needed.” In speaking of it, the feeling came back to her. She brushed her hair over her ears, and the wide-set eyes looked far off. “And I loved the rock. It’s hard to describe. I loved the rock more than you or the baby or myself. And this is harder to say: While I sat there I went into the rock. The little stream was flowing out of me and I was the rock, and the rock was—I don’t know—the rock was the strongest dearest thing in the world.” She looked nervously about the room. Her fingers picked at her skirt. The thing she had intended to tell as a joke was forcing itself back upon her.
