Sea Glass

Our memories are the tiny shards of glass that enter the sea.

Once tumbled around in the ocean year after year, they become scattered on the shore. Each a unique shape, size, color, and all alone amid millions of tiny grains of sand.

My favorite is a pastel blue, made of clouds and the stretch of sky on the horizon, where the ocean meets the air, so close, yet eternally intangible.

Yours is deep red, which turns a shade of scarlet when lifted up to the sunlight, tinted with bloody streaks, and somber, yet always vibrant.

You cling to your shard like a forlorn child clings to his decaying teddy bear, although it might cut your hands as you pulled it out of the ocean before it was ready…

You won't let go of the memories. Our memories.

I won't let go.