While in Waldport, walking the long stretch of flat beach with my husband and my dog, I practiced hopefulness and looked for a whole sand dollar. Hunched over, I scanned the sand. I filled my pockets with cloudy butterscotch and milky white agates, but no shells. As I
was walking one day, the sun glinted off a large white spot in the sand,
large enough that I thought it must be a whole shell.
It was partially buried and a ridge ran down the center.
I dug my finger around one edge and pulled it free.
Flipping it over, I saw that it wasn’t a shell at all.
It was a piece of a broken china plate.
Garbage.
The pattern was bright blue, one I recognized from when I’d
eaten at Asian restaurants. This
specific piece had a small boat at its center.
There was a single person riding in the boat.
I
showed it to Eric and he said, “That could have come all the way from
Japan.” I reply, “Yeah.
Either that or a nearby dumpster.”
I liked his theory better, but believed mine.
© Salahub 2003 |