The sea gave me a gift. Thank you.
Shading my eyes from the blinding sun above, a speckle of pink directed my attention to the ground. Barefoot, wearing a swimsuit and sun hat, I leaned down to get a closer view at the beauty in the sand. Embedded on the beach was a marbled pink and gray conch all alone.
My first instinct was to pick it up and show it off, lay it on a towel until I got home from our trip, as I have gone with other shells. But, this conch was special. For one, it was pink. Another, I assess the size to be around the same as my hand, closed. Therefore, I couldn’t justify moving her.
Let me say that I am not a fanatic. I have been to the beach more times than I can count, have seen many conchs, and brought them home for souvenirs. However, I have a little problem with their smell after a week. I have tried bleaching and boiling and leaving them out to dry. What ever I do, I end up sending them far away. Therefore, I did not move her.
Besides, she was the most beautiful conch I had ever seen and since I wasn’t bringing her home, I wasn’t going to disappoint myself by digging any further. I savored the moment. Examined every swirly layer, enjoyed the delicate, pearling seashore hues, and watched as the tide inched came nearer to me.
Expectations often leave one with disappointment. So, as I stood up and let the sea wash over the lovely shell until she disappeared. Then, I sauntered on the hard surface, searching for something else to divert my attention. Slowly, I turned my head to follow the waters where the conch last appeared, but I found waves gushing bubbling water through the smooth sand.
Smiling, I walked away. I thought that conch may have been more than just a shell. She may have a lot of life to do. She may have little conchs to mother in the following days, weeks, or years. The sand is covered with shells. The lives spent in them are over. So, I traverse the sandy beach again to comb for hidden treasures. Peacefully, and like the conch, alone.
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