Late afternoon -- more glow than glare. A warm and gentle sea-breeze washed over the beach. In mine was a little hand. It's owner was taking in a lot of nature and sharing the joy as she'd break away, run ahead to catch a seagull or two, and then run back to hold my hand. Not long before I had laughed as my daughter squealed, running from an incoming wave, her red hair dancing about.
She suddenly stopped and tugged at my hand. "Daddy, look!" Her hand pulled mine down farther as she crouched to wrest a seashell from the moist sand. "It's got a hole in it! You know what THAT means?"
My mind raced for explanations of friction and erosion that would make sense to a young mind. Images flashed. Waves pushed sand and shell back and forth. Wind blew dry sand along the dome of the shell. Silica abraded calcium carbonate.
"Necklace!" she exclaimed, triumphantly thrusting the worn ornament up to the sky.
"Yes, Li'l Red," I smiled and gently squeezed her hand, "That's just what I was thinking."
She suddenly stopped and tugged at my hand. "Daddy, look!" Her hand pulled mine down farther as she crouched to wrest a seashell from the moist sand. "It's got a hole in it! You know what THAT means?"
My mind raced for explanations of friction and erosion that would make sense to a young mind. Images flashed. Waves pushed sand and shell back and forth. Wind blew dry sand along the dome of the shell. Silica abraded calcium carbonate.
"Necklace!" she exclaimed, triumphantly thrusting the worn ornament up to the sky.
"Yes, Li'l Red," I smiled and gently squeezed her hand, "That's just what I was thinking."
No comments:
Post a Comment