Travelogue - 5 July 2008
It is cool and overcast. Only a handful of people pepper the sand. Another couple, like us, read and relax. The others appear to be digging for clams.
I wear a hoodie over my charred skin.
The breeze is brisk, but invigorating.
I walk beyond the clam diggers to the water’s edge. It doesn’t feel cold as it washes over my feet. I want to look for scallop shells, but decide against wading out that far. I search for shells in the sandbars instead. I find one decent-sized scallop shell, which is enough to satisfy me. On the way back I dig around where I see little flashes of white. I pull up a snail shell the size of my fist. I carry it tentatively back to our blanket, afraid that a huge hermit crab will emerge from the shell. It sits on the corner of our blanket. I check occasionally to make sure it hasn’t escaped.
It is my greatest treasure due to its sheer size.
The tide comes in. The clam diggers leave. But not before a father, uncle, and two towheaded boys in front of us dump every clam they’ve collected back into the bay.