Walking hand in hand on the beach, Maga and I were on a mission. Our task? Driftglass. Treasure the ocean gives up only when it’s through shaping it. Smooth and worn, standing the test of time, one-of-a-kind creations and ours for the taking. We were the beachcombers, searching intently for any hint of vivid color against the burlap hue of the wet sand.
“You know, looking for driftglass is what keeps me from wearing glasses.”
“Really?”
“Yep. That, and reading a lot of books.”
Maybe she’s right. After all, she always sees the driftglass before I do and I’m only 9. Maybe I should read more…
Driftglass. It begins the journey a cold sharp shard, hard with rough edges. Lucid. Coarse. Reckless. Impatient.
“Here’s another one, Mike! What a beautiful shade of blue. And it’s in the shape of a heart. Here, why don’t you hold it.”
You know, she’s right. It does look like a heart. Who knew glass could actually feel soft in your hand?
The journey continues through water, through sand, through time. Through high and low tides, it learns to weather the storms. Hints of future splendor peek through, but it is still uneven. There is more story to be told.
“Hey, look Maga! I found one! It’s a white one! Where do you think it came from?”
“Maybe it came from a sunken ship! It looks like it’s been in the ocean for a very long time.”
A sunken ship? Wow! Maybe it was a pirate ship. Or maybe even the Titanic! I wonder how long it really did take for this piece of glass to get so smooth, so soft, so beautiful…
And still the journey continues. The water is shallower now. More calm. More peaceful.
The little piece of glass, once so unyielding, is now so forgiving. Its beauty is borne of experience. Its shape is that of wisdom. Its story is etched on its surface, giving it dimension and personality and character. Ready to be discovered. Wondered at. Delighted in.
“Maga, let’s go home and play dominoes.”
“Sounds good. But you know I’m not just going to let you win. You won’t learn to play if I do.”
“I know, I know. But I think I’m going to win this time!”
We laughed as the waves rushed up to us, carrying sand crabs that tickled our feet as they plunged into the soft, wet sand. We were the beachcombers, triumphant in our quest. Mission accomplished and little pieces of history in our pockets. What treasures we had found! Driftglass. Gentle, soft, beautiful. Unique, brilliant, vibrant. Each with its own story. Found.
With one last thrilling ride, the driftglass rushes toward the white sand glittering in the sunlight like so many stars in the sky. As the water retreats, a sigh of relief. This is what it was meant for. For a time such as this. A strong, gentle hand reaches down, cradling the treasure in its palm. Smiling eyes delight in its beauty, its matchlessness, its radiance. A tender finger reads the story impressed into its surface. “Just what I was looking for,” says The Beachcomber in a great, kind voice. “I’ve been waiting for you. Welcome home.”
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