As I strolled along the seashore looking or seashells, memories came from the past. Memories of a child again collecting seashells running,
to Mother "save them, save them for me."
Wondering where the seashells have been I peered deep within the whitecaps of the ocean, hoping to retrieve the mystery of their journey. Tumbling, swirling in the depths of the sea, seashells washed cleverly clean by the salted water.
Answers of the question at hand never seem to come because these are the mysteries of the world. Answers that we long for leaves us wondering, where do all the seashells go? I continue my stroll happily accepting that not all answers can come to me when expected.
Content to watch the waves caress the seashore, tossing the seashells with an endearing playful, love...that has been shared by us all.
family vacations at Santa Cruz, CA late 1940's - early 1950's