Kai's Memories

The sea, as hazy as her memories of it. A cloudy blue stretching to the sky and beyond. The sand, pale white, dull and wet where the water has touched it.

It's no paradise. But it's beautiful to her. It's home.

Tiny fingers reach out, white grains sticking beneath her nails as she digs and scrapes up clumps of sand. She is searching, attracted to the treasures of the sea.

A round shell so pearly white with a perfect dollop of brown in the middle. So perfect she tries to eat it until her mother shrieks and fishes it out of her mouth. A round tan disc, shattered into large pieces, intricate carvings broken up that she fits back together. Thousands of tiny, tiny clamshells that crunch beneath her feet as she stomps down hard and laughs.

And then she sees the most beautiful treasure of all.

She squeals. This gets no attention from her mother, who's used to it. So she cries louder, "Shell!"

The waves crash and it disappears, and this time her scream of pure anguish gets her mom on her feet. Before the shore can recede, she's plunging into the water.

"Kai!"

She stumbles as the surf fades, tiny hands grabbing and coming up with only seafoam. But then she sees it sitting in the wet sand, and toddling with all her might, snatches it up just as someone snatches her up.

She squirms until her mom puts her down, now on the grass, and sinks down beside her with a sigh. Before she can get scolded, she cups her hands and shows the world. "Shell!" And for once, her important discovery elicits the same wonder in someone else.

Next to her mother's curiously probing hand -- she won't let her do more than touch it -- it's tiny. But it fits perfectly in her palm. An iridescent purple gem, scoured by the waves until it shines like nothing ever has.

This is only the beginning.