Searching for Just the Right Symbol

 
There were three of them, two men one younger and one older and a young woman.  Two did not want to be there; they were never big on symbolism or ceremony.  The young woman knew that she had to be the one to take the lead.  She firmly pushed her foot forward sliding into soft and impressionable sand out across the long beach toward the water and they dutifully followed.  The walk seemed longer than it had ever been.  Such a vast emptiness in front of them.

Weather was moderate.  Wind was gentle.  Air temperature was innocuous.  It was as if Mother Earth was napping today, or more likely, holding her breath to see if they got through this.

Was it just last year that the old woman had been sifting through these sands for shells and fossils?  Was it just last summer that they had to help her to her feet after a long afternoon sitting and crawling in the sand?  They gathered the plastic bags of finds, the water bottles and her small red cooler.  Then the young man had to find her wooden cane.  It was almost impossible to see it leaning against the pile of driftwood, already melding itself into oblivion, perhaps realizing that soon it would be cast out with all the other dusty and faded things which were no longer needed on this earth, those things that did not provide the warm memories needed for sustenance, those things that do not become interesting fossils returning after millions of years.

Today, they just had to find one fossil.  That was the challenge they had set for themselves.  One simple petrified tooth of a shark, perhaps, would suffice.

They were surprised at how therapeutic the sifting of sand through ones fingers felt after a while of the sun warming their backsides.  Like sugar it fell aside, just a few granules sticking to the inside of the fingers and leaving larger bits of flotsam and jetsam in hand.  How the old lady had loved this exercise.  Her eyes would light up with glee when she found something unusual or particularly lovely.  She would tuck it into her jacket pocket.  When her pockets got too full they would transfer the bounty to a large plastic storage container, to be further sorted and discussed at home for the rest of the afternoon until dinner.

They had never enjoyed it as much as she did, and usually, they played cards on the blanket, walked the shoreline, took photos of water birds, or played with the baby after its nap.  She would recognize compatriot collectors on the beach.  They would smile and nod and then come over and show her their finds or pull out a special tooth from their pocket and discuss whether it was from a sand shark or actually an Otodus.  Since this creature had no bones, all that was left for man to view after unimaginable years was its many teeth.

The young woman found the the first one, small but completely shaped and in two shades.  The men, minutes later, each found a tooth, almost at the same time, one larger than the other.  Three fossils and in excellent shape.  The old woman would have squealed in delight and would have ordered them to be careful and not lose them before placing them in the container.

Tomorrow they would visit her grave and each would have a special gift to place at the stone.  And they would feel her smile, from whatever sandy shore she now rested her soul no longer needing a cane or plastic holder or help in standing.

(Two photos completed with a skeleton of a story.)