the journal of literature and the arts at saint david ’ s school
A Small Glow
Personal Vignette
Looking out into the calm sea , I see with relief the rough waves bouncing off of each other around one spot . A sandbar . And where there is a sandbar , there are sand dollars — the “ Treasure of the Sea .” I suck in a big breath of salty cool air and glide into the blue water , my body limp and free , letting only the waves pull me toward the trench . All I can hear is quiet rippling as the water circulates and flows through and around my body .
When I was just a few years old , I came here for the first time . Recklessly splashing through the water , crushing any shell I could get my hands on , I had no sense of the fragility of nature , of the beauty that is worth preserving . I sobbed , clutching the broken sand dollar that I had worked so hard to find . I thought that this would be the memory that would stay with me , ruining hours of work , letting myself and my family down . But my dad kneeled down and handed me his , smiling .
Now at the sandbar , I lift up my snorkels , rubbing the lenses . Then , I press them to my face , take a deep breath , and let myself sink to the bottom . The sand hits my pants as I hear a faint “ crunch .” I eagerly turn my head . The darkening sky makes it less visible , but the time of day makes it low tide , perfect for finding sea cookies . I grip the ground-up clam shells and rocks , letting the sand sift between my fingers and toes . It massages my sore feet .
Sometimes I question why I wait this long and do all of this work just for a shell . But I have swum in the same spot my whole life , and that excitement of feeling the circular , smooth shell is the greatest reward . I spend
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