It is the color of the water that surprises him this time. He comes to the beach every week and always there is something surprising: the size of the waves, their dark sound, the near-silence when the water is calm. Today it is the unhealthy pallor, as if the ocean held no life at all. He begins to look down, to do his errand. There aren’t many shells today, or many at this hour. He knows it has to do with the tides, that there is well-understood science behind it. Simple physics, really, and one of these days he’ll learn it. He bends to pick up a colorful shell he can’t identify. It will fit perfectly in a small hand. There are a few larger shells, gray asymmetric ones that even he knows are clams. These aren’t worth picking up, and he knows …show more content…
It all happened fast. One day she’s running around and the next my wife is calling me at work. It was just before Christmas, and—oh, I’m so sorry...” It is more difficult to control than he thought. “Nonsense,” she says. “What you’re feeling is perfectly natural.” For some reason he is not ashamed. When he recovers himself he asks: “Did I—did I mention that my daughter is sick?” He notices the youthful eyes are the color a child might imagine, or wish, the sea to be. At first she doesn’t answer. Then, bending spryly to pick up two irregular shells, she says: “When I was younger, younger than you, I lost my son. And I do believe it marks a person. We know something that not everyone knows.” “But how can you be so...so content? It seems impossible, illogical even.” “Yes, I suppose it is.” Her smile broadens and the finer wrinkles disappear. “Do you know what this is, or was?” “An oyster?” She puts the two halves together, as if the creature were again living, and says, “What you’ve lost—what you’re losing—will become a hard, sharp stone. It will always be there. And then time goes by. The edges soften and it becomes something interior, sealed off. Protected almost, the way precious objects should be.” “I don’t quite