My father once taught me a secret. He said if you pressed an ear against a shell's hollow side, you could hear wave upon wave brushing upon the shore. And I always felt there was such beauty in that simple fact – the hollow never forgets where it's been. The ocean is forever alive if you listen closely. This is how I remember you.
You can tell me about the science of it all, about how they're just sound waves bouncing off walls, mimicking the sound of the tide. But if you really think about the beauty of the common conch, you'd understand that all beautiful things must die. Maybe it was alive once. Maybe it even moved. One summer, a lonely crab came upon it. She dusted him off and made him brand new. They were inseparable. They were happy. But then she moved on.
A fortune teller once told me that in my past life, I was happy. They called me California because you couldn't see anything but the sunlight when I was in the room. It's such a far cry from the man I am today. Some days, I question if I can ever be truly happy. Maybe the soul can only hold so much laughter and I've used all mine up.
What if I told you I was hollow? That you could love me all you want but all you'll get at most is your own voice echoing. Would you leave?
If you pick me up and press an ear to my heart, you will not hear the ocean singing. At first it will seem like nothing, just random beats of blood pulsing through my veins. But if you close your eyes and you picture who I was in your mind's eye, you will hear California's laughter.
The seashell echoes where it once was. This is how I want you to remember me.
♫: Sheryl Crow | Wildflower (2005)
Photo: The last trip