No Matter How Lovingly Found
Originally featured in The New York Times, Modern Love: Tiny Love Stories Column. August 2024.
We walked along Oregon’s blustery shoreline, my brothers, me and our mom, Emy. Hand in hand, feet soaked and wind-chilled but together. At the tip of the tide lay a white sand dollar. My brother gave it to our mother, who held the perfect circle in her palm, touching it lightly, almost wistfully. She smiled sadly. “I can’t take it with me.” We leave so much behind in death and can take nothing with us except, we hope, love. Twelve days before she passed, our Mama certainly couldn’t bring a sand dollar, no matter how perfectly round or lovingly found.
Here is the earlier piece I published, a broader view of the day. Six years ago.
