Seashells

I wander along the beach, refreshed by the stiff breeze and the salty tang that accompanies it. I can take my time, for there is no place I have to be just yet.

A glint of color catches my eye, and I stoop to pick up a fragment of a seashell. I'm sure it was a beautiful, harmonious whole once, but even now it is stunning.

I continue on, stopping frequently to pick up a piece of a shell here, a cracked sand dollar there, a colorful or interesting pebble, and my hands fill.

Smiling, I turn to my companion, showing him my brimming hands.

"Aren't they beautiful? I found them all myself! I don't know if I can make anything out of them, but they sure are pretty."

He smiles, and extends a large hand in my direction.

"May I have them?"

Hesitation grips me, and uncertainty churns within. Why does HE want them? What if he loses one? They're mine, after all. I don't have to share. Worse yet... what if he breaks them? No, I don't think I will...

Turning towards him once more, I steel myself to deliver the rejection, but when I catch sight of his face I remember that this is the one I trust. My heart melts, and I silently nod my approval.

He gently cups his hands around mine, swallowing them up, and I let my treasures tumble into his capable palms. Brushing errant grains of sand from my fingers, I step back to watch his response. After all, these are priceless and unique treasures- the epitome of beauty!

He smiles at me once more, an affectionate embrace from afar, and then... he flings my precious seashells far and wide. I am shocked. I cannot move. I cannot speak. I am, simply, outraged.

Before I can give vent to the seething emotions that have exploded within me, he takes my hand, and says, "Come with me."

Numbly, I follow, still trying to process this turn of events. I thought I could trust him. I thought he cared for me. Wasn't it obvious how highly I valued those little shell pieces? Why would he do something like that?

We round a graceful curve of beach, and before me lies an exquisite little cove, pristine and private. Its shimmering sands call an invitation, and on the sands lie... seashells. Beautiful, intact- each one is a work of art. They number in the thousands, a silent salute to lovers of beauty.

I turn to my companion, not understanding.

"Do I.... do I get to pick one?"

He throws his head back, laughter cascading into the cool ocean air. Pulling me closely to his side, he whispers into my ear, "I'm giving you the whole thing."