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It seems the sun and moon are the more constant things. But, no. They come and go as they please and sometimes appear to not be there at all.

It is the sound and the smell of the sea as it rolls in and out that never wavers. The briny scent inspires a deeper and slower breathe. No matter how far we travel from the ragged edges where land and ocean collide, it is the sea that is there, awaiting our return.

The crash and roar is like a palette cleanser for the mind, wiping clean the worries of the day then inviting in a collage of long ago memories. A stroll on the beach. The last remains of a picnic lunch crumpled up upon a blanket. A sand castle melted by the rising tide. The words ‘I love you‘ inscribed in a heart for all time but remaining in the sand for only as long as the sea will allow.

Constant sea. Enduring in spite of change. The ocean doesn’t cry for the things she loses to the land because she knows they’ll find their way back. Or not. For what does she mind if the sea glass polished smooth by months and years of being part of her is plucked up and tucked carefully into the tiny palm of a child looking for treasures and a reminder of a family’s day at the shore.

Is this not the same as the link between mother and daughter? As constant as the ocean and its waves. A charm bracelet of treasured memories that tinkle lightly when they touch. Memories that are always there. To be breathed in and tucked carefully into the palm of our hand so we may carry them forward with us? I believe it is.

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