A Special Souvenir

I promise, this is the last beach post. I had camera issues. My Nikon battery died the first afternoon and I had inadvertently left the charger at home in Georgia. Then, my pocket Olympus died a terrible death after getting smashed by a heavy object. Huge bummer.

The remainder of the trip was photographed on our cell phones. Therefore, it has taken me a few days to upload from the 4 various places I had saved photos. (More info than you cared to know I am sure, but a glimpse into why I seem scattered all over the place...I am.)

The Nikon pictures tell my favorite story from the trip.

It was a lovely trip full of sunshine and laughter.

Someone told me to 'golden years of childhood' are 5-8. I believe it!
While there was some 'play' on the beach, my children tend to be quite the searchers. Most of our time was spent hunched over--digging and collecting. I wish I had a picture of the kitchen garbage bag K, my little hoarder in training, had with her on the beach. Seriously, a garbage bag that she filled until it was too heavy for her to carry!
We found some MASSIVE shells--think softball sized. Yet, the memory I will treasure was my discovery of an intact sand dollar and the events that unfolded afterward.

P was walking with me when I found it. The first intact one I have any memory of collecting, I was pretty excited. P went berserk. He whooped and hollered and giggled with delight. I snapped this shot of him just before he clenched it in his palm and ran back down the beach to show the rest of our family.
In 5 short paces his exuberance shifted from the thrill of victory to the agony of defeat. He dropped to his knees, howling, hunched over staring into his hand. I knew instantly what had happened. He had held his treasure too tightly. It had shattered within his grasp.

I will leave it with you to interpret the metaphor, but the symbolism was not lost on me as he bounded towards his Daddy. As he sniffled and tried to explain what had happened his big brown eyes pleaded, "Please, fix it Daddy. Make it whole again."

My husband placed the pieces in the palm of his hand and put them back where they belonged. Although he is a surgeon, he doesn't think he is God. (Pardon a little medical humor) He explained to P that this was a job too complex for super glue.

P truly mourned the loss of his sand dollar. It was a short-lived attachment, but my boy loves treasures intensely. He begged us to find another. We explained how rare it was and tried to set his expectations appropriately.

We tried. For two straight days, our beach time was spent doing A LOT of this. On Friday afternoon when we went fishing, we even had our captain take us out to an island/large sand bar known for sand dollars. We left empty handed.

Then on Saturday afternoon, about 20 minutes before we left the beach for the last time, my husband found another one. Our whole family celebrated. It felt like a team win.

Tonight in my living room, "because that's where fragile things belong," there is a dainty, intact sand dollar that serves as a reminder of a random but special family memory. No store bought souvenir could ever hold a candle to it!