I took one step, then another, carefully placing my foot in front of the other. The soft, squishy sand felt great beneath my tired feet, getting between my toes and around my heel. The foot prints I’d left behind were carefully molded into the sand, only to be washed away by the oceans calm, luke-warm waves. The salty sea wind whipped my hair across my face, while the waves brushed up against my feet, leaving seaweed between my toes.

Little kids, no older than 6, were attempting to build sand castles near the shoreline. They were calm, happy, the same feeling I get when I’m at the beach. As I took another step, I felt a small poke beneath my foot. Looking down, I saw a small conch shell, a brilliant shade of orange with a red line twisting around it. It was a prize shell, a miracle. And it was mine to keep forever, the memories of walking along the beach kept inside.