The salty wind whipped through my hair and the rhythmic crash of waves against the shore were the lullabies of my childhood. Armed with a pail and a plastic shovel, I’d spend hours combing the sun-warmed sand, a small alchemist searching for forgotten riches. Discarded bottle caps, smooth pebbles, and weathered shells filled my bucket, each a testament to the tide’s relentless alchemy.
But the true prize that sent shimmers of delight dancing in my eyes was beach glass. Back then, the magic of its transformation was a mystery. I couldn’t fathom the years it spent tossed by the waves, the relentless dance that smoothed its jagged edges, transforming it from shard to treasure.
Finding beach glass was claiming a piece of the ocean’s secret, a tangible reminder of its ceaseless power to reshape, refine, and renew. It was as if I held a fragment of the sea itself, a testament to the transformative dance of time and tide.
At the ripe age of seventy-four, I see the reflection of that beach glass in myself. Life, like the ocean, has tossed me about and tumbled me on its relentless waves. The sharp edges of youth have softened, replaced by a smoother, more weathered surface. The scars etched upon my skin map my journey, a testament to the storms I’ve weathered.
And just like that beach glass, I hope the stories I leave behind become treasures for others. They are nuggets of wisdom and experience pulled from the sands of time, tumbled and polished by life’s currents, their edges worn smooth, ready to be discovered by a new generation of seekers.
Once sharp and cold, it danced with rage, now tumbled smooth,
it turns the page. The ocean’s kiss, a gentle hand,
Has carved a gem from a foreign land.
Emerald whispers, sapphire gleams, a frosted heart, a sunlit dream.
Each piece is a story that time can’t erase, a whispered secret, ocean’s grace.
Time and tide will smooth the way and wash away the day’s storms.
We, too, are glass, tossed and turned, but beauty waits when lessons are learned.
Yes, there must be beach glass. In the ceaseless dance of life, we are transformed, polished, and ultimately, become treasures waiting to be found. Have you discovered your beach glass?
How many of you have thought about your ancestors? How many generations back have you researched? I can go back 10 generations, and then it gets muddy.
The salty wind whipped through my hair and the rhythmic crash of waves against the shore were the lullabies of my childhood.
Looking back at my life this time, I realized that my dream had come true. I was working with Native American children and sharing my passion and skills with them. I was making a difference in their lives, and they were making a difference in mine.
Chino Valley, Arizona
info@whenspiritsspeak.com