Jack and Wendy are on holiday with friends Oliver and Barbara, from Britain, and Brandon and Beth, from Virginia. Herewith a tale of their adventures.
The Atlantic and I had a disagreement about how I should reach shore, day 4 of our holiday. I felt riding in on Oliver’s borrowed board was best, but the wave said I should plow to shore on my face doing about 12 mph and let the sand stop me.
The wave won that toss, but since then the sea has behaved handsomely. This morning, when Brandon and I got up early to walk to an old lighthouse, we found many things on the beach, tossed up by last night’s storms.
First up was a strange shell I thought was a clam, but turned out to be a pair of sunglasses. Versace, new. Brandon looked them up: $280.
“The sea is apologizing for beating you up,” he said. “It sent you a gift. And you can hide your black eye at the restaurants in Savannah.” (That is our next stop.)
“Versace, smersace,” I responded. “I don’t use name brands.”
There was a loud crash as the calm ocean suddenly produced a nasty wave.
We walked on. A few hundred yards later, I said, “That’s not….”
“It is,” said Brandon. “The sea is trying really hard to make it up to you.”
These sunglasses were more, as Brandon put it, “a Wendy-friendly style.” Aviators from Old Navy, $20 new.
“I like the heart-shaped frames, but you know I really don’t wear sunglasses.”
A strange sucking sound came from the ocean, for all the world like a frustrated sigh.
We soon reached the tidal pools around the light house coast. The storm had tossed up massive hermit crabs, a few jelly fish, numerous large scallop shells and some broken conch.
“Look at that.” I pointed to the edge of a tidal pool. We waited to see if the leopard crab shell moved. It did not. I picked it up. Empty, perfect, rare.
“Oooh, this is nice,” I said aloud, holding the shell to the light to admire its colors.
“Apology accepted.” Brandon addressed this to the waves.
The sea gave a small self-satisfied sigh, and took the tide out.
What a delightful and clever piece of writing! It’s worth sharing!
I used to look for shells while my husband surfed (I couldn’t swim, so after biting my nails to see if he surfaced the first few times he went under, I became philosophical about his mortality since I couldn’t do anything anyway.) I was hunting Scotch bonnets and had a theory that if I dismissed the pieces of “good shells” the ocean brought me it wouldn’t ever deliver a whole one. So I picked up every piece of a good shell and expressed my gratitude so the ocean would eventually reward me with an intact specimen. Never happened though. And I’m married to a nonswimming musician now, so it all worked out.
Delightful! Love your sense of humor. Hope you heal quickly!