We walked along the shore today.  The seashells, half buried in the sand, fooled us more than once.  The birds and tide had made pieces out of perfection and we were left with only broken fragments.  The children seemed to pay no mind to the flawed trove.  They gathered them as if they were whole.  They delighted in the discovery of the mundane and in the simple shifting of the sand.  

But it was to the distant jetty that we set our sights. Majestic rocks protecting the fragile surf.  An oyster bed cradled safely in arms outstretched. These boulders, randomly stacked, spoke of distant quarries.  Where had they come from?  What cataclysmic forces gave them birth?  And now, they quietly lay; to protect, to shelter, to strengthen.  

Carefully, we move across these giants.  The sound of the surf and the sting of the wind give us pause to respect our surroundings.  As in life, we study each move, gingerly placing one foot in front of the other.  Watch out for that rock – it’s loose!  And the one over there is covered with fine sand!  We are not as sure-footed as we once thought.  With each step, our strength slackens yet our foe remains unaffected.  

The seagulls overhead seem to mock our infant-like movements.  They soar on the current above, searching for a nourishing meal.  They banter back and forth – some unknown joke between feathered friends.  The ease with which they freely fly make one wish for wings that work.  Yet, it is our feet that must take flight, one step at a time. 

At last, we touch on sandy soil, shifting, yes, but a welcome foundation whereon to walk.  We ponder our journey to the jetty and hope for similar strength to endure the boulders of life.  There will be those that will mock and seem to have freedoms beyond our own.  But while they hunt for sustenance, we know that have only to return home to find it.  The path may be difficult at times but the direction is sure.  One careful step at a time.