Dear Graham,
One of my favorite times to walk the beach is at low tide, when the shoreline stretches wide and I can wander across the flat, far reaches of sand. The tide is out, exposing the dark black rocks and tide pools. In some places, large pools of calm water with sandy bottoms appear, perfect for wading or a gentle swim.
When low tide arrives in the early evening, just before sunset, it is my favorite time to walk. The beach is quiet, the waves are gentle, and the foamy water creeps onto the sand, creating glassy reflections that mirror the clouds and sky.
Our twilight walk today was one of those wonderful walks. The tropical air was surprisingly cool. We walked for miles, stuffing our pockets with shells—gifts the sea had coughed up and left behind on the shore.
We saw tiny hermit crabs scuttling across the sand in their borrowed shells and sand crabs peeking from their sandy holes. We watched two pelicans soar overhead before diving toward the ocean. We saw a mother, father, and their teenage son swimming in a giant tide pool. I noticed bicycle tracks left by someone who had ridden along the beach earlier that day.
We watched the big orange sun sink into the hazy blue sky, settling behind gray clouds. We breathed in the thick, misty, salty sea air. We held hands.
Tom talked about being a young boy on the Oregon coast, getting up at four in the morning to go clamming. Pail and shovel in hand, he would search for the sharp razor clam siphon poking through the sand and quickly dig before the clam could burrow deep and disappear. Later, the family would boil the clams, dip them in garlic butter, and eat them together.
As he told his story, my mind drifted to my own childhood days at Eagle Harbor on Lake Superior. I built sandcastles on the shore, skipped flat rocks across the water with my dad, and in the evenings we would build a fire and toast marshmallows. The freshwater waves rolled in, and the air filled with the scent of smoke, sand, and water. I remember wrapping myself in a sandy blanket and walking back to the car with my dad’s hand in mine.
Tom reached for my hand as we walked up the beach toward the gate to our Pedasí home. I looked up at him and smiled, feeling deep gratitude for the life we are living in this beautiful part of the world.
Graham, I am happy that you, too, are enjoying the beach with your parents at such an early age. Your mother tells me that you love building sandcastles and endlessly tossing rocks and shells into the sea. I hope these early memories of salt air, sand, water, and family stay with you throughout your life.
With love,
CC
