I do so love when it’s a close race, but I really hate it when it comes back and bites me in the ass after declaring a winner. I should have cleared my cache last night or something before posting. Ah well, Jeff Pfaller, @pfallerj did indeed win this week, as announced, but so did Aisling Weaver, @AislingWeaver. It’s not hard to figure out why. They were both excellent entries but in very different styles. It’s nice to have two such fabulous writers here with us each week. Congrats to you both!
Here’s Aisling Weaver‘s winning entry. See you next week!
She doesn’t know I still have them, that I’ve kept them tucked away in a small satin lined box. But I have. Conchs and augers, scallops and clams, mussels, helmets, oysters, olives, turbans; every seashell unique and beautiful.
Serena left them behind on purpose, of that I know, thinking them a silly reminder of times passed. I, however, keep them, treasured for what they are; little keys to snapshots in time. Memories.
I count them out every year on her birthday, let them play through my fingers, remembering each beach; sandy, rocky; that we scoured for them. Some years she answers when I call, others not. She has her own life now.
This year, though, it’s time to return them to her. They are hers as well as mine, now. Because next year I won’t be around to count. My handwriting is careful, the wording specific. I fold the letter, tuck it inside, tape a nametag to the box. ‘Serena’.
Hopefully those sixty shells will help her remember me when I’m gone. Remember when her hand, tiny, fit into mine, and we created memories, mother and daughter.