Piece of Pottery

(Class assignment 7/7/09, most prized possession)

It wasn’t until years after his death that I recognized this piece of clay was my most prized possession.  This tiny shard given to me by grandfather holds hundreds of years of history I cannot even begin to know about.  Grandpa Big Cheech was my world and I his.  He was a fountain of knowledge I never tapped into.  “Wanda, he said in his gravelly voice, I want you to have this.  Keep it safe”  I held this flat rock in my hand and wondered why I had to keep it safe.  I looked closely at it examining it for some clue of its preciousness.  Nothing! and why would I have to keep a rock safe?  I wondered to myself.  I nodded politely and put it in my pocket, grandpa wouldn’t steer me wrong. 

It was only one day when I needed something for who and tell that I dug this pebble out of my jewelry box and called my aunt to see if she knew the story.  She gasped when I told I had it.  She continued with it’s story.  Grandpa was travelling in the southwest U.S. during our winters to find work.  One year he worked on a construction crew that had discovered what they thought was an Indian burial ground.