Seaside Relics

It was the early hours of the morning when the rising sun would catch the tide pools at just the right angle and make the beach look like it was covered in diamonds.

It was her favorite part of the year. Summer. When she could wake up each morning and walk down to the shore. The world quiet around her. Still asleep. The air was chilly. Blowing through the dune grass, rustling the stalks as it went by - sometimes whistling if it caught the right blade. She'd always have to be bundled up, hiding her skin from the breeze. Trying her hardest to avoid an outbreak of goosebumps. Even though it was the same each morning, she was always amazed at the sky. How brilliantly beautiful it was. The pure blue of the sky directly overhead. How it slowly bled into the orangish yellow of the morning light as the sun began to make it's presence known. It looked like a painting. Colors blending together into a magnificent opus.

When her feet finally did touch the sand, she'd always stop for a moment. Letting her skin adjust to its temperature. It was cold. Numbing her toes. But it was a comfortable numb. Embracing her feet. She could feel herself sinking in. And it didn't bother her. It was welcoming. She felt like she was being held by mother nature - supported by the world around her.

It wasn't until she started moving forward, out over the still wet sand that she began looking. All around her were hundreds of tide pools. Left on shore by a fleeting tide. And in each one lay a hidden treasure. Various seas creatures - crabs, schools of fish, muscles, starfish. The possibilities were endless. And each one intrigued her. She could become transfixed watching a group of fish swim aimlessly around in the confinement of a pool. Sometimes if the pools yielded nothing, she'd dig down into the soft, wet sand, as deep as her arm would allow her to go - even up to her shoulder - rooting around for sand crabs. Pulling them to the surface to watch them squirm and wiggle as they tried to get back to their granulated homes. But most of the time she was looking for relics dropped by the ocean. Whole sea shells. Unblemished by rolling waves or strong currents. On the days she was lucky, she'd stumble upon a piece or two of sea glass. Perfectly smooth from years of tumbling along the sea floor. Sanded down to a cloudy gem. Back home she had quite the collection - ranging from browns and green, to the more rare yellow and blues.

But most of all, before the rest of the world woke up and joined her down on the beach, she felt alive. Like herself. Playing and wandering like she once had.

When she was just a girl growing up on the coast.