The Lonely Sand Dollar by Lisa A.

I can see it like it was last week. The day was gloomy. The sky seemed to have a pale look as if it were about to cry. We were packing all of our stuff away. Everyone was moving quickly, but the same look the sky had seemed to appear on all of our faces. We sat on our beds soaking up the last feeling of our home for the week. Mom had brought the video camera in through all the rooms for us to remember our wonderful week at the beach. We loaded the luggage cart, and started to depart from our room. The sand was still stuck in every crevice of the tiles at the walkway of our condo from our sandals. The car was all packed up, and now it was time to say goodbye. The ocean's waves crashed gently into the beach. There were broken shell pieces scattered all over from the storm the previous night had conjured. The see oats gently swayed as the sea breeze carried a salty aroma. It seemed like a lullaby was rocking us to sleep as we stood watching the waves. Unfortunately, we needed to leave soon. I took a handful of sand letting the cool, gritty feeling exfoliate my skin. Sister had done the same as we felt the sadness of leaving such a beautiful place sink in. Then, I explained what we must do with the sand.

"Sister, throw the sand as far out into the ocean as you can, so that there will always be a part of us in the sea. The ocean will always remember us, because part of us will be there."

We threw the sand out, and watched the waves until we were almost in a dream state. The gray sky looked down upon as and whistled a wind that brushed our blonde hair in our eyes. A call from the distance was heard telling us it was time to go. I took one last look and started to walk back. I took off my sandals letting the sand caress my feet. As I looked down at my feet, I found a lonely sand dollar. The beach was covered in broken shells, but no other sand dollars were to be found. I carefully picked it up, hoping to treasure it always. I came closer to the car, wiped off my feet, and sat back into the very familiar leather interior. I looked at my hand with the sugary white complextion of the sand dollar. The keys turned as the car started, and we looked back at the beautiful ocean for the very last time...

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The Lonely Sand Dollar
by Lisa A. (Age: 17)
copyright 10-02-2004

Age Rating: 10 to 127

Prose-n-Poetry.com

The Lonely Sand Dollar by Lisa A. (Age: 17) copyright 10-02-2004 Age Rating: 10 to 127

The Lonely Sand Dollar
by Lisa A. (Age: 17)
copyright 10-02-2004

Age Rating: 10 to 127