shell

On the occasion that we can go to my grandmother's house I take the kids down to the lake.  A short walk and we step into another world.  The wind whips our hair and stirs the water into a fury; you can hardly hear yourself speak.  It's good to be silent once in a great while.  To let something besides the noise of your life take over. 
More amazing than the wind and the waves is the what is under our feet.  A small area of land covered in shells.  Not sand.  Some rocks.  But mostly discarded shells.
The light catches the pearl, a beauty only some sort of god can create.
The kids and I stand on broken pieces and take as much as our hands and pockets can manage.  We work in a silent tandem, only talking to show some amazing work of nature.
 The whites and darks.
The smooth and the jagged.
The straight and the spirals.
 The contrasts are never ending.
This feeling is never ending
Shells crush beneath our feet.
The wind catches our hair.
And suddenly you feel like you are more.
This body is just a shell.
And the mind and heart go beyond what is outside.

I took the moment and bottled it.


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