Gem of the Day

I remember one summer

like the back of my hand.

We were on vacation on

Martha’s Vineyard.

It was a pristine summer day

at the beach.

For hours on end,

my Mother, sister, my son and I

lingered over the sands of time.

With buckets or baggies in hand

we silently searched and combed

the beach

for the simplicity of finding

that one little shell

that would truly be

the gem of the day.

My fingers released the

tiny grains of sand.

Finding the tiniest little shells

no smaller than a little beetle bug,

yet whole and perfect.

No flaws.

And from time to time,

I would look back

and see my Mother

walking along the beach

with my oldest son

nearby not very far from her.

And I was thankful for that moment,

a timeless treasure

of seeing my mother

alive and walking along

the sandy beach

enjoying the sand beneath

her feet

and the little fit of her grandson

lingering near.

And she had been given

some extra precious time.

They had told her she

would only have a month,

yet she was grateful

to have three more years.

And that day was

absolutely perfect,

to have her here with me.

She was truly the gem of all days

sweet.

Jennifer Jo Fay

Copyrighted january 25, 2012

Some flowers nearby my mother’s grave.