Searching for that Seashell

Posted on September 11, 2018

We have some breaking news for you.

Remember the sound of the ocean?  

In the wee morning you listened to the waves from your bed.  You walked to the pier before the world got so busy.  Just you and the old folk were awake.  Tiny fish skipped through holes in the sand.

Your beach was full of seashells.  So many to pick up.  Each one might be the perfect one.  You placed it to your ear and could hear a second ocean inside as warm tides splashed around your toes before receding.  Some shells were surely still alive.

You didn’t know words like Dunkirk or Fukushima.  There were no Exxon or BP oil spills.  No hypoxic dead zone.  No great garbage patch.

Just your tiny hands and an endless dazzle of beautiful colors.

There wasn’t a guy on Facebook saying this beach didn’t belong to immigrants.  Your beach was full of black and brown and white hands, if you even noticed at all through all those gripping colors.

Here comes another wave.  Did you feel it wash over you?  And another.  Here comes another.  Do you feel it now?

It’s magnificent.  Oh my.

You don’t want it to end.


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