Like many people, my life has been enriched by the yearly ritual of bringing my winter coats out of storage to discover whatever the past version of myself left in the pockets. You can always count on crumpled receipts and unused napkins. Sometimes it’s half-eaten granola bars, the occasional loose Benadryl, or my favorite lip color that I’d been “looking for.”
There’s something special about finding things in your pockets. It’s like a magic trick in which you are a lone magician with only one audience member. Some years ago I left five dollars in my coat on purpose so it could make me happy later. It worked so well I’ve considered storing larger sums to someday make my day. Pockets can also be a good place for secrets, housing things like condoms or tampons. It would be very embarrassing to be seen with these items in your bare hands, exposed to the elements, on display for prying eyes who need not know your body has functions that require accessories. Of all the wonderful things you can forget about in your pockets, the best thing I have ever misplaced in there is a rock.
This rock has been in my pocket since 2017. I had been living paycheck to paycheck in New York City for about a year when I called off work one morning and put on my favorite now very beat-up jacket. I felt horribly guilty about this, and I never called off, but that day I hand an indescribable need to be out-of-office. For no particular reason, I could not take myself to a place where I was constantly infantilized while doing the work of three people. (When I left they hired two people to replace me, so that’s something.)
I went for a long walk and let the wordless part of my brian take over, allowing my inner monologue to rest. In my heart I had been meditating on the nature of my general dissatisfaction with life. This feeling had been brewing within me for some time. I was on a tiny stretch of beach at what is now Marsha P. Johnson State Park when I settled on what it was. I took a small rock in my left hand, it fit perfectly between my thumb and pointer finger supported by the middle, like it was molded from my grasp. I fiddled with it and looked at the city across the river. So many lightbulbs. So many rooms. So many people living their lives and getting by and here I was too, just like them, an ant on an ant farm.
The nature of my life at that time, and what I had to do to change it, materialized quickly. This was a realization that occurred abstractly. I felt it and understood it in my bones without a single word ringing in my head. I was not doing what I had come to New York to do. I had moved here to make movies, to meet people and build a career. I hadn’t done any of that. My life was consumed by my office job and the friends I’d made to blow off steam from it. I had built my life around work, financial stability, and passing friendships. I had walked far away from what I actually wanted. I put that rock in my pocket and almost immediately forgot it was there. Sometime later I quit my job and refocused all choices in my life to serve my intention: the very simple desire that I have to make movies.
I have always struggled with object permanency. It’s the kind of running family joke that’s especially funny because it’s extremely true. The instant something is no longer in my hands, it is as if it never existed. It is a daily occurrence that I, at some point, cannot locate my glasses. It doesn’t help that I often choose, for unknown reasons, to place items in odd places no one would think to look for them. Obscure shelves, strange corners, areas of rooms I would claim never to have even noticed before. And in this way, life is always exciting. The little plastic castle is a surprise every time, and so is the rock that’s been in my pocket for eight years.
It’s very easy not to notice it in there, tucked deep into the crevice of the sturdy and unusually large cotton pocket of my fall/spring jacket. I can keep small books in there actually. It can comfortably house a beanie if I get too warm or want to have one on hand just in case. It’s an especially great jacket for when you don’t want to carry a purse but still need to truck many items around without looking too bulky. And the pockets are designed strangely. They’re very square and have a sort of flap about the bottom. The inside seams are especially thick in the pockets too. Such a thing as a small rock can easily be lost without ever leaving the garment, and given the nature of my mind, it’s no wonder this rock would so often not exist.
It is a true comfort to find it each time. Like a magic trick. I hold it between my fingers, like it was molded from my fingertips, and I remember that day on the beach.