Louise Rafkin

Confessions of a Pebble Thief
By Louise Rafkin

During my first year of therapy with Dr. Conger, I began what started as a random gesture and soon became a ritual. After each session, on the short, pebbly path from his home office to the street, I’d secretly pick up a small rock and pocket it.

The shape of the rock — big, small, oval, round — reflected something about what I felt about the session. The lexicon of meaning was based on intuition: I’d let my eyes scan and hit upon the “right” rock. If we’d talked about something unfinished I’d take an asymmetrical rock. If I’d had a breakthrough I’d pick a big rock. If it had been a quiet session I’d select a small, ordinary rock. A red rock denoted anger and a black rock despair.