Shells

That beach that lovely beach the sand beneath my feet where we would look for shells in crags and tidepools We would swim out into the surf until we could not touch the sand drinking in the smell of salt and savoring the warm wind blowing hard towards home; There we would walk, and listen to the waves when I was young How I loved that place. Now when I smell salt drifting on the air or the brush of a warm breeze on my bare skin my mouth does twitch and a half a smile comes to me as I recall the coarse sand and the water around my body. I remember the smell of the air and the sound of the waves and in that moment no matter where I am I stop to look for shells.