We Will Always Be Six Jars of Sand

20140314-142308.jpgPhoto Credit Jenny Bennett Life Is Swell Photography

We used to be six jars of sand.
Full up, each one, with memories stored.
Brought from the shore, where we used to call home. An adventure quite brief, but now carried with us.

The jars each one, that six of us filled. On the last day of an adventurous life by the sea. A life where the air was fresh and salty, the horizon long, the sunsets spectacular. The waves could be heard each night, out open windows as dreams were dreamed.

There used to be six jars of sand. Each one was gathered with love. To keep memories safe and dreams stored up. To fill up our life far away from the shore. To remind us of the time our journey led us straight to the tide washing in, washing out, on our adventure for six to live by the sea.

Every morning, I now see six jars on a shelf. Far from the shore, but close to my heart. I smile fondly, drinking in that last day. Each of us sipped down the coffee, so the jars were ready for memories and dreams. It was breezy and the sun showed its beauty through the clouds that last afternoon in the surf. Approaching sunset, in every way, we came to catch one last glimpse. To bottle it up, to take with us and remember that day for always. Our family of six with our six jars now filled. Five when we started, six when we left, that fateful adventure when we lived by the sea. It was brief but it changed us. Now the sand and the shells would remind us.

Family is stronger than anything. The jars came with us, intact and unique. Filled by each one of the six, with what we hold dear. Of the time we were together in our life by the sea. The friends that we made. The beauty we saw and the pain that we faced. Some hold shells, bits of driftwood, some jagged rocks. Some hold sand dollars, pebbles, but all hold a lot.

The jars were each capped and the adventure was done. The sun set that day on a new memory made. The six of us ready, to head down the road. Six jars in hand, to new journeys untold.

They sit on a shelf reminding us now. That once we could hear the waves crashing over our dreams. Outside open windows with salty night air. How lucky we were to have lived by the sea. How lucky we were to take six and leave.

The jars are sturdy, made of glass, all alike. But what each one holds inside is as different as each grain of sand at the shore, the place where the ocean keeps dreams, and gives some away.

One day a young boy who didn’t quite understand, took his jar off the shelf and opened the lid. Before any knew, his sand was all gone. Poured out in a dirt pile, part of his plan. He was building and making something quite big, and needed his sand for the final touch. I cringed and cried out, How could you?! Utterly sad for the dreams that poured out. The memories gone, each grain now a part of new dirt and new chances. On a new journey. We used to be six jars of sand. And oh how this boy would never quite know, the tears that it took to fill up those jars.

I flew into action. Explained to my son who felt sorry and sad, that we still would be six jars of sand. Nothing could change that, not even mistakes. Some held blood, sweat, and held tears that were spilled. Six held laughter and love that were carried along. They held friendships made and a family’s heart. On an adventure of unknown waters and ladders climbed. Of rough seas. Of beacons in the dark, of waves softly crashing outside windows while dreams were dreamed. The boy’s face smiled, for he thought the jars had just held sand.

I sat him down to tell him the story. Reminded him of the day we sipped down the coffee and started to gather our hopes and our wishes and the memories made of our life by the sea. He understood when I showed him the jars now lined up. One sad and open, now stood empty, next to five still full with hope intact. The five jars still held enough dreams for the six, to open them seemed like going back to that day. Memories rushed as fast as the tide, but slowly and surely, a new plan was made.

We poured out together, carefully, jar by jar. We opened each lid and we filled up the one. Soon we had six jars of sand once again. Dreams had been shared and memories restored. They all stayed together now back on the shelf. Six jars of sand full of hope once again.

We will make it on this journey, I thought. A journey that is shared by us six. Wherever the adventure might take us, we will give to each other, our hopes and our wishes. Forever filled up of our memories, our ocean of dreams, stand together; our six jars of sand.

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