Treasure Hunting

The pebbles rained from my fingers and plopped onto salty stones below. With the exception of the geese, we had the long curve of beach to ourselves.

Every handful, revealed seaglass. Some were tiny, barely bigger than grains of sand. Others were large, clunky bottoms of bottles or shards of jars. Elizabeth had an eye for brown, picking out, with unerring skill, the amber pieces from a beach littered in shades of brown. Joseph searched out whites, somehow spying them among the sun-bleached driftwood and rocks. My eyes spied blue, green, lavender, and pink jewels. We held each piece to the sun and exclaimed over its beauty, it's color, it's unique shape and size. We studied the etched letters remaining and wondered over its origin. We polished it on dirty shorts to better see the color.

We were addicts.

After a morning post-wedding brunch, we'd made our way to the beach. What was to be an hour, perhaps two, became our obsession. My legs pinkened under the beating sun while strands of hair stuck to my neck. Hunger and thirst sent us from the beach to get a sandwich. A late night of dancing sent us back to the cottage for much needed naps.

When the kids woke, it was nearly five. On vacation time in a place where the sun didn't set for another four or five hours, we plotted what to do next. There was a mountain to hike, a lake to wade in, canoes to rent, more places to explore.

Yet, we found ourselves back on that beach, alone again. It was quiet work, each of us lost in our own thoughts. It was meditative, sifting our fingers through smooth stone. It required concentration to look beyond the whole we saw at a glance and instead see the pieces.

I watched Joseph, his puppy large feet clumsy and awkward. I saw the piece of him, there with the whole. I saw his eagerness to please, to do things correctly. He dug next to his legs until his stick hit hard sand, ensuring he sifted through every part of his space and withdrew every bit of glass.

Elizabeth sat next to me, her little legs stretched beside mine. She swept the ground with light fingers, admonishing me for not being gentle enough. While Joseph and I worked in the same manner, she was determined to find her own way.

We got hot and waded in the icy water, moving floating logs to the beach where it dried in the sun while we leaned back against them. We built a wall in this way, marking our progress down the beach and tucking ourselves between the tall grass and the driftwood as heat gave way to evening cool and the sky began to turn pink.

Grabbing a pizza from the market, we made our way home in the dusk.