Far northwest beaches are reached after walking through verdant Pacific rain forests of towering aged trees. Occasionally mottled light splinters through the dense shade; that, and the sound of the surf, hints at the coastal splendor at the forest’s edge.
Emerging from dense green foliage, stepping out onto the wide expanse of beach, floods the mind with the grander of the shifting boundary between land and sea. In that place beaches are wide, as the tide recedes with distant expanses of shallow water.
The ocean polished remains of fallen, nearly whole, tree trunks are beached along the shoreline. Grey, splintered, and pock marked after untold time adrift at the sea. Smaller remnants of driftwood cluster with grey-blue indigo shells at the tide line. Sea tinged winds against one’s face, beach combing in bare feet, navigating the rivulets of sand and salt water; the soul ’s delight.
I unwrapped the collection of driftwood and shells that we had gathered that summer so many years ago and began to arrange it in a way that we could enjoy it’s beauty once again. Holding each piece, lifted an abundance of memories of that time and place. The extravagant beauty of that region; the old, old forests along an expansive coastline; the cool, moisture rich air; and the milestone in our life that the place marked. Through the years we have spoken of that time, recalled the deep serenity of those days, counted the years since we were there. It is a prominent marker on our timeline of living. A treasure in the midsts of numbering our days.
"Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom."
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