Sitting in the sun today, I had thoughts of an abalone half shell. Long ago I had inherited a lovely old basket full of show shells. This is how the abalone came into my possession.
I remembered how the abalone’s color sparkled in the sun. The pastel pink and sea-foam green of its inner side blended naturally. Its outer shell was encrusted with evidence of a past life where other life forms had snugly attached themselves to it.
I knew nothing of its personal past. I just knew it had to have lived a past life in a distant sea. Either a diver or a stormy surf must have brought it up to shore. It wore nature’s artistry with a humble modesty.
One day I had decided to showcase it in a miniature garden I was making. It sat among an array of miniature plants. Since the plants were within their element of soil, they flourished and became overgrown. The abalone was in an alien habitat, and it could not compete. It sank into the soil as the plants took over.
Today my memory of it sent me searching for it. When I found it I saw no evidence of its pastel pink and sea foam green. All its vivid color was covered over with a dark rich soil embedded in its every crevice. I cleaned it out and washed it with a mild soap. I’ll have to soak it in a bowl of water to see if I can bring back its former glory.
movingforwardslowly 