Stone Warm

by Gail Balentine

She bought it because a gargoyle’s face, while ugly to some, was a collection of character lines etched by the chisel of experience to her. Similar creatures have observed men and their habits for centuries. They did double duty on towering churches like Notre Dame in Paris. They scared off evil spirits and acted as downspouts for rainwater.

         She placed it on that small, empty table on her porch right beside the front door and smiled at the idea of scaring off evil spirits and maybe a salesman or two. Added bonuses were that the stone did not need to be watered, did not complain of the heat or cold, and provided a unique conversation piece. What more could one ask of a small statue?

         Somehow, though, as the months passed and it sat there, listening when she groaned about the weather or muttered about dragging her tired butt off to work, the stone seemed to absorb warmth. Then, at the end of one particularly grueling work day, she retrieved the mail, looked down at the statue, and began talking to it. “Let’s see - two ads, two bills and the 27th L.L. Bean catalog so far this year. What do you think of that, eh?” She paused for a response - maybe a raspy chuckle? - but even when she got nothing back she noticed that her step was a little lighter as she went into the house.

         It went along like this until one day when she and her mother were sitting on the front steps and her mother suggested it was time to get rid of “that ugly little rock”. She started to respond but quickly stopped, suddenly realizing that her gargoyle had, somewhere along the way, gone from an “it” to a “friend” in her mind. She wasn’t sure when or how it had happened but she felt it. She hugged her mother and said: “He’s with me and he’s staying.” Her mother recognized the tone and said no more. To make up for the gaffe, that winter a knitted scarf for the creature appeared and they both laughed as she tied it around his oddly shaped neck.

         These days, as she talks to him on her way in and out of the house, she also pats his head. For outdoor parties she highlights him by placing a lantern containing a lit candle beside him; and when the weather turns bad she moves him back a little or brings him inside for protection.

         Her little scarf-draped stone man who quietly sits and listens but never questions, complains, or demands provides a quiet, pleasant moment in her busy life. What more could one ask of a friend?

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