She Used to Listen to Seashells
A fictional short story about a woman’s struggle to cope with the unexpected death of her mother
“Hold it up to your ear.” her mother said warmly, as the young girl lifted the tiny seashell.
“Can you hear it?”
“Hear what?” The young girl replied.
“The ocean.”
She listened carefully, but couldn’t hear a thing. So she jammed the seashell further into her ear until finally, she heard the roar of the far-off ocean waves. She immediately lit up, and a smile spread across her mother’s face.
. . .
This was a memory that crossed my mind now and again, especially around this time of year.
Of course, I know that you can’t hear the ocean through a seashell. Much like many of the stories our parents told us during our childhood, they were all little white lies creatively spun to keep the magic alive.
I used to believe in that magic. That the world was a beautiful place, where fireflies were secretly tiny fairies who granted us wishes and the Man in Red would visit each Christmas Eve, delivering presents under our discount department store Christmas tree.
