Seashells

Mom would say

“We’re going to Jones,”

and my siblings and I

would pile into the car.

I was always excited

to spend the day

on the warm sand,

listening to the sound

of the waves

too frightened to go in,

scared I’d be swallowed

by the water,

but always so entranced

by the small treasures

left behind

after the big crash.

I would walk

up and down the shore

looking for pieces

to add to my collection.

They came in all shapes,

colors, and sizes

waiting to be taken home

and placed on the highest self

to be admired for years to come.

And even as I grow

and become friends with the waves

eager to jump into

their crisp cool embrace,

I will always remember

to take a tiny gem

to add to my trove.