When my children were born, I knew that I would treat them to
the same experience one day. When that day finally arrived and we pulled up to
the beach in our giant conversion van with buckets, shovels, floaties and more,
I knew the magic was about to begin. Since it was late afternoon we had missed all the good
shells and made plans to walk the beach earlier the next day. We had a large bucket to collect the
many seashells such early risers were certain to find.
Just after sun-up, my son and I hit the beach only to realize
that some unexplainable scientific phenomenon had occurred, as all the shells
were gone. A few broken pieces of
shells were scattered along the shore, but the ones like those of my childhood
were nowhere to be found. I
promised my son it would be better the next day, but it wasn’t. My mind filled with shell theories and
doubt about those shell stores that obviously had an insider connection to
shell gathering. Giving no
thought to the outcome of my actions, I purchased a bag of beautiful shells in
all sizes and shapes. And then it
happened… I pulled my husband into my conspiracy and made him walk ahead of me
on the beach, secretly seeding it with cleaned, bleached, polished seashells. My child squealed with delight as he
filled his shell bucket with treasures from the sea. Other parents looked in our bucket of shells with
great doubt as our son pulled out conch shells and horn shells and ones that
looked like little ashtrays.
He was so happy. We were so
wrong… but it continued even as the second child was born and two parents and a
brother seeded the beach for the next child to enjoy.
Unfortunately, as the second child aged, so did we and it
happened that we weren’t quite so discreet in our shell placement. My husband
would walk ahead of us and fling shells from his pockets. My daughter was about ten when she
looked up at me and said, “You know I can see Dad, don’t you?” I smiled and gave her that same look as
when she questioned Santa.
She knew, but it was more fun to continue believing.
The kids continued to grow up and we eventually stopped
seeding the beach. We came to
accept that the days of great shelling were over. This past year, as an older version of us visited the beach,
I watched as other families kept the hope alive and searched for any sign of treasure
from the sea. None could be found.
After a week of algae filled water
and diminished hope that the gulf would clear up for swimming, we woke to
crystal clear water. It was as if God
had brushed His hand across the sea and returned it to its beauty. The kids grabbed their snorkel gear and
jumped in the water only to discover a world of beautiful shells just short of
the shoreline. They gathered
shells for hours and reveled in their find. The magic was still there, just waiting to be
found.
