By Jane Grey
When I was younger, I loved, loved, LOVED dragons. (And I still do). I would draw them all the time and had even drawn one on a rock that I placed on the bottom of our path at our house in Edinburgh, to guard us. I was devastated when someone stole it! But I made another one, hoping that whoever had taken the last one had taken it because it gave them as much joy as it gave me. The new one I made, I wrote our address on the bottom of it, to discourage future thieves. It didn’t work, and that one was stolen too.
I never made a third one.
Fast forward several years- and I mean several! I made the dragons when I was around 8 (I think) and this next part of the story occurs when I am 15 or 16. We had a knock on our door, and it was our neighbors from up the road. They had been out to Portobello beach (about 14 miles away, on the other side of Edinburgh), and were walking along when they had seen a strange stone on the ground, that was drawn on to look like a dragon. They picked it up, and turned it over, and found my name and address on the bottom! So they returned it to me. It’s green has faded, but its sharp grin is still the same It was so surprising and lovely to be united with it again.
I’ve not been brave enough to put it back at the bottom of the path, although sometimes I wonder if I should so it can have another adventure, and perhaps one day again it will find its way back to me. But right now, I like having it close and it reminding me of how wonderful life and chance can be.