Mahider Fasika

My first childhood crush used to love collecting special-looking rocks. One of which he gifted me in the third grade. I kept it in my closet and would look at it from time to time. Years later, in the 9th or 10th grade, our geography teacher assigned us to bring special looking rocks for an assignment. And so, I mindlessly brought my special rock to class and our teacher decided to take it – to grade our collection and also show it to the other classes… He promised to give it back but weeks passed without that promise being delivered. We soon learned that our geography teacher had left the school. I asked around and had the head of the geography department check the lockers for our rocks but there was none to be found. We were never gonna see our rocks again. 

There were kids with rocks that looked much cooler than mine but I don’t think anyone was as devastated about their loss as I was. 

You know I’ve learned that promises were meant to be broken a ling time ago, and that’s a betrayal story for another time, but that day I realized that sometimes, we don’t know the value of something until it’s gone. 

I kept that rock for years. It was earthy red, the size of the top half of my thumb, smooth on one side and rough & regular looking on the other side. I only remembered to see it once or so a year but it had a special place in my heart. And I so easily gave it up on an empty promise. 

It’s twisted – finding the value of something once it’s gone because the hope of getting it back never dies. So Mr. Zemenu, if you’re watching this, I would highly appreciate it if you could give me my rock back. It’s earthy red, the size of the top half of my thumb, smooth on one side and rough & regular looking on the other side. And also F*** you:)