Friday, February 10, 2017
I thought of the book's title when Nora remembered my shell basket yesterday and ran to pull it from under my bed. She loves to sort the shells and is most fond of the tiniest shells. We spent a long time handling the shells and talking about how beautiful each one is. She knows the names of a few. Later, she will learn more. For now, it is enough to delight in them, to touch them, and pretend. She is a little shell seeker.
Our sons loved shells and liked to keep them. Jeremy had quite a collection so many of these are his. Many of them came from the beaches on Sanibel Island, Florida, where our family spent time in 1980. The tulip shells came from a flat boat journey out to the mud flats.All of our sons talk about that trip and the fun they had being shell seekers. There are many years between their shell hunting and Nora's discovery of the same shells. The family story is still being written. I am grateful for the seeking and the finding and the keeping, of shells, and of story.