Today's OneWord: Shell

I thought about giving my mom a shell for her birthday. That was it. Just a clean, polished, shiny shell - maybe one that had more than one color naturally painted across its ridges. Could have been pure white or splattered golds, purples, and reds. Could have been solid black, like obsidian. Didn't matter. She would've loved it.

My mom always talked about shells. Every hour, on the hour, she'd sit up in her hospital bed, looking out at the beach just outside her window. Begging for a seashell necklace.