I remember her pretty blonde hair blowing in the ocean breeze.
We walked along the shoreline collecting shells and showing each other our finds,
marveling at the unique beauty of each of our treasures.
The jar of shells has been with me throughout the years.
I’ve added to them shells I’ve collected with my children.
A sweet legacy.
I love the broken ones whose edges have been smoothed by sand and salt.
They have been tossed by the waves, refined by the gritty ocean floor.
They don’t hold their original form but they are a work of art.
Kind of like my heart.