The Sand Dollar

5.11.06

It's in the folding of her 7 year old daughter's underpants, the discovery of a green plastic toy soldier in her purse and the scent of rosemary from the front garden that she finds herself. Gathering her home around her like an old warm sweater, she bakes her bread and mends the torn knees of children's jeans. The paint peels from a shamrock colored bathroom wall, but she's busy building a sand castle at the beach. When the waves threaten to destroy it, she digs furiously, burrowing into the sand to create a diversion of the salty waters from her hard worn labor. But in the wet, a sand dollar washes up on the shore, flat, pale and quivering, right into her outstretched palm. She looks at it closely, the 5 pointed star and imagines in it, a compass with an additional direction. North, South, East, West and Beyond. Holding it she now stands and stretches out her hand, squinting to line up the points with the horizon. The water laps at her feet as she contemplates which direction to take; a breeze lifts her skirt. The slender sea creature curls in its edges, seeking its watery home so she whispers, "thank you" and lets it slip from her fingers into the surf. A gull screeches its warning that a wave is headed for her bulwark, but she doesn't notice. "Beyond" beckons and she lifts her arms and closes her eyes a moment before taking the first step. Behind her, the castle dissolves under the weight of the sea's intent, leaving behind the only the lumpy outline of her work.