, and let me tell you, it’s a page-turner – part mystery, part romance, part drama — a deeply moving story about the intricacies of sisterhood, the unshakable bonds of family loyalty and the power of forgiveness, healing and above all, love. Today, Wendy treats us to a bit of fiction (a rarity at my place, eh?), and I love the symbolism that lies just under the narrative. Welcome, Wendy, and thanks for being here today, friend.I love to read Michelle’s profound posts. For weeks I wrestled with what I wanted to share with her readers—you. You! And I kept getting stumped. Until one night not long ago a story came to me. Yep, I write fiction, so this is often how small thoughts instigate radical change in my life.
So today…a story for you.
The Beach, by Wendy Paine Miller
A seven-year-old girl begged her mom to take her to the beach. The mom had a demanding job and she knew there was only one day each year that she could make the drive to the beach with her daughter. So they planned their trip. The girl drew sketches of starfish, sharks, and sailboats and hung them on her walls.
Alas the day came. They packed buckets, shovels, sunscreen, goggles, and towels and tossed them all in the car.
When they got to the beach, the mom found it curious that the only thing her daughter wanted to do was search for a shark tooth.
“I’ve dreamt about it, Mommy. It’s the whole reason I wanted to come. I have to find one.”
So instead of building sand castles or jumping in the waves, the two spent the entire day combing the beach for a shark tooth. By the time the sun sunk in the sky, they stood empty-handed.
“Maybe next time, sweetie.”
“But I’ll have to wait a full year. We can’t give up.”
“We have to go home now. Maybe you could put this conch shell up on your shelf.” The mom lifted a twisty shell with blunt spikes, eager to offer her child something.
“It’s just a stupid shell. I really believed I’d find a shark tooth.” The girl’s eyes glistened with tears.
“Someday.”
They walked to the car hand in hand, with the young girl holding the shell loosely in her free hand.
*
A few nights later, the mom entered her daughter’s room. “Hey look, Mom. There is something cool about this shell.” The girl shook it in front of the light. “It rattles.”
“I’ve also heard you can hear the ocean if you put your ear right up next to the shell.”
The child cradled the shell to her ear. “I still really want to find a shark tooth.”
“I know you do. For now, try to keep appreciating what we did find.”
The child sighed and fought off sleep.
*
Almost a full year later the mom went to tuck her daughter in. The girl was in a panic. “Mom, it doesn’t rattle anymore. My shell. It lost its rattle.” She held the shell up to her mom in a fit of tears. “Even what was good about it is gone.”
The mom brushed the child’s bangs from her eyes and tested the shell herself. Her daughter was right. The tinkering noise was gone. But then the mom felt a small lump under the comforter. The mom retrieved an object twisted up in the sheets. She lifted it and smiled.
“What’s that?”
“It’s a shark tooth. You’ve had it all along inside your conch shell. It’s what made it rattle.”
: :
As a writer, I can relate to the little girl with her intent focus on finding a shark tooth. I’ve wanted and craved and hoped in so much. But as a writer I’ve also learned something invaluable. I have everything I’m looking for. I get to do the thing I love every day. The publishing deal may or may not come. I may or may not sell hundreds of thousands of books. I may or may not win awards. But I have everything I thought I was looking for. And like that shark tooth, some days it feels hidden.
I don’t know about you, but I don’t want my tunnel vision for something that may or may not happen to cause me to miss what’s happening all around me. The beach with its crashing waves, warm sand, and unending sky. I want the rattle to remind me that I have everything I need right now. Right in this moment. I’ve been given a gift.
Wendy is a native New Englander who feels most alive when she’s laughing, reading, writing or taking risks. She’s authored nine novels, including the recently published The Flower Girls, and is currently writing what she hopes will be your future book club pick. Her work has been published in numerous anthologies and online sites. Wendy lives with her husband and their three girls in a home bursting with imagination and hilarity. You can connect with Wendy on her blog, Thoughts That Move, and on Facebook and Twitter.
