The words "I'm starting to lose hope." tumbled roughly out of my mouth just at the precise moment that my husband bent down to retrieve it. We were sea glass hunting on a beach in San Clemente. We were walking through a large patch of sea-worn stones talking and searching for the glimmers of green, cobalt blue and weathered whites amongst the copious numbers of rocks which had washed up onto the sand. I was trying to make sense of a situation that makes very little sense, but it also appeared to be a poor day for recovering any sea glass. Where exactly the loss of hope was emanating from was a bit unclear. Just as the word
hope made its way past my lips(to God's ears, as they say), Mark knelt down and pointed to it. And as my eyes focused upon the light blue sea glass marble which he was pointing to, they skipped past it to the second one that was resting only several inches away.
There, in the pile of anonymous grey and black rocks, sat two tiny orbs weathered by sand and saltwater just waiting to restore hope in two wandering hunters. I rocked back on my heels from the squatting position that I sat transfixed in and sat down on the beach. I placed my elbows down on my knees and rested my chin in my hands. Unbridled laughter rose up from my heart and I shook my head. In my entire sea glassing life of almost two years, I have retrieved only one and a half sea glass marbles amongst the pounds of mermaid tears and weathered glass bits. One and a half. And now, on this day of broken hope, there sat two perfect marbles from times gone by.
I scooped them up and handed them to my husband. He examined them with curiosity and then handed them back to me. I let them roll around in my palm as I gazed out upon the vastness of the ocean. How much is out there to be retrieved just when the timing is perfect? Do we sometimes miss the answers because we are so wrapped up in the questions?
I reached my hands up towards my husband and he pulled me to my feet. I tucked the marbles into my pocket and then hugged onto my beloved husband with a renewed fervor. We headed back to meet our oldest Angel Daughter for dinner along another half mile stretch of beach. Hope rolled around in my mind, heart and pocket with each step.
Neither one of us came across another piece of sea glass that day.
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