…are sad. There is a beach a few miles from where we live and we often take our little dog running on it. Most of the time the sand is bare: no weeds, very little detritus, only crabs, broken seashells and the occasional driftwood. Today the tide had brought in more stuff than usual: shiny pieces of redwood, polished rocks, large empty shells. I spied an unbroken sand dollar and an iridescent blue shell shaped like a tiny comma.
I continued walking, keeping my eyes on the ground. I couldn’t shake the feeling that a sign from Noah was imminent and that it would materialize if only I paid close attention. I didn’t have long to wait. Here it was at the edge of the surf: a lone kid shoe, full of water and sand, of a style and size that looked just right for a six-year old boy.
I stared. I could feel my heart racing and my throat constricting. But the dog was running ahead, chasing seagulls. I snapped a picture and reluctantly followed.
On the way back, the shoe was gone. As if it had never existed…