And there it is. Life is the greatest paradox of all. A never-ending cycle of memories and fascination.

Yesterday, I was a giggly little girl at at the beach. I chased the waves, and squealed when I got wet. The setting was pure and simple. One of those little gems hidden away against the groves of Cypress trees, just waiting to be discovered. Yet, I remembered the place from years ago, and I was glad to find myself there again. 

I scoured the beach for the tiniest seashells I could find, just like the little girl from yesteryear. They were the miniatures of a world I had created for myself in my childhood. There I stood at the marriage of land and sea as the soft sea air rushed through me, and the jewelry came in with the frothy tide. Pink and purple and bright orange and broken and wild and innocent they came. The remains of creatures who had outgrown them and left them. Cherished by little girls as treasures, but in reality the seashells only returned in the humble backwash of the ocean. 

But there the little specimens await our delight in our discovery. And the waters continued to ebb and flow, but I could see that everything has a driving force behind it. And paradox again smiled its wry grin. 

Water, a symbol for emotion, wraps itself around our feet seamlessly as we step into the waves, only to pull away again, but always to return. Water is the genesis of life, but one cannot drink the seawater; the saltiness is overpowering and sickening. Life thrives in the ocean, but the water also soaks in the dead. And yet, the dead water moves as if it is alive, because it is the moon which is playing God. Its gravitational pull against the water will forever bring it forth and send it back again, as long as there is an Earth left for us. The tides patiently roll in, and the aquatic backbone oscillates with each ebb and flow, always and forever. 

Finally, it was time for me to go home. But I won’t forget the day when I remembered what it felt like to be a little girl again.