October 19, 2015
(If we live with an open and grateful attitude, every day will bring a gift. This is one of 365 gifts during the year I turned 70.)
Those days when pain overshadows, thoughts are dark and heavy, and I am anxious, my eyes sink downward to my feet as I walk. What I see reflects what I feel. The sand is mixed with black from oil spilling into the Bay, washed-up empty Natty Boh cans litter the beach and flies feast on a half-eaten dead fish with unseeing eyes aimed toward the sky. Waves suddenly pick up their intensity as a huge container ship way out toward the horizon creates a wake that thrashes the shore and tosses all the ugliness at my feet. I move backward to avoid soaking my shoes.
Then I notice something that does not fit in with the black and the scavengers and the turmoil. I stoop over and look more closely. In the middle of the shore’s blemishes are three shells shining with their unique pastel rainbows. One side is scarred imperfect black like the dirt on the beach but the other side—a tiny spot of beauty—points up at me and beckons my eyes. In my mind, this beauty negates all the other things I see and feel. I focus on the smooth purples and pinks and blues. Did I just hear myself thank these tiny shells for the emotional harmony they offer? Why not.
Usually I look up to see rainbows. Today I looked down and found rainbows.
> Day 315: My Husband's Prom Date
You can find links to my other posts on this project here: