I remember going to the
beach as a kid and combing for seashells with my mom — the groans of
disappointment when a seemingly perfect prize was broken, the oohs and
aahs of excitement when small treasures were unearthed by the rushing
current. Our favorite discoveries were sea glass — blue, green, or
amber, smoothed and fogged by endless turning in the sand. I couldn’t
believe something so sharp and scary, something to be avoided in parking
lots and on sidewalks, could become so soft and precious.
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