I dug my feet into the sand, letting the breaking waves wash over my feet again and again. The sea receded, leaving a fragment of ridged brown and white seashell a few feet away from me. It looked interesting, maybe I should shift from my entrenched position and pick it up to examine its beauties.
No, I didn't want to budge from my comfortable spot. I just wanted to stay there and watch the grey clouds on the horizon as they lightened from the pink of early dawn to the brisk blue-gray of day. The wind blew steadily inwards, and the sandpiper nearby was continuing its tireless tracking in the sand following the ebb of the waves.
But I had thought about the shell, and the sea decided to fulfil my wish. The next big wave sent it crashing towards me. It was now at my feet, all I had to do was to bend down and pick it up. And pick it up I did.
It was fairly heavy and smooth at the edges, tossed about by the waves countless times against the shore. Should I keep it? I could. After all wasn't this the ocean fulfilling a random wish that crossed my mind?
But when the sea gives, it has the ability to take away as well. A superstitious fear beset me. I had been reading all the cautionary tales and flyers about rip currents, how they could snatch the unwary beachgoer from the sand.
I thought no more of it. After a brief last look at the shell, I tossed it out back into the sea. This was one shell that I would not be taking home with me.
Here are some that did make the trip back home with me. All glittered so beautifully in the sand, and dulled once they were out of their element. But they still remain beautiful, misshapen, holed or not, shaped and smoothed by the waves and sand.
