Beach Glass

"Why do you have a jar filled with glass?" - she asked, innocently.

My reply - "That's beach glass"... and I turned away.

This is what I didn't tell her:

I suppose I started collecting beach glass over 30 years ago.  Living near the ocean, walking the beach in search of treasures that washed upon the shore was an automatic thing.  I suppose I never really gave it much thought; it just happened.  It started with small rocks - white ones, especially.  White rocks have magical powers.  Any kid can tell you that.  I slowly graduated to collecting shells that were discarded by the creatures who once called them home.  As I grew older and more courageous, I would pick up shells that were still inhabited - only to return them back to the sea upon inspection.
The first piece of beach glass I ever picked up was at Ediz Hook, in Port Angeles, Washington.  It was clear glass - frosted by the sand, rocks, waves, and water.  I remember then thinking that is was quite a find, so into my pocket it went.  When I got home, I washed my prize under warm water in the sink and dried it off with a towel.  I held it up to the light, but I could not see through it.  I rolled it around in my hand and enjoyed the smooth sides that were once jagged.  I carried my treasure into my bedroom, placing it into a jar.  And that's how it began...

I would return to the beach many times in search of glass.  I no longer cared for rocks or shells, it was the beach glass that I desired.  White, brown, green glass... and on very lucky occasions, I would find blue glass and other exotic colors, as well.  All sizes.  All shapes.  It didn't matter.  If the edges were still jagged, I tossed the glass back to the sea so that she could finish her work of smoothing and frosting the glass.  I considered us partners; me and the sea.

I took to the beach for many reasons... the boy who broke my heart, the bad grade, the difficult decision... or simply just because it was there.  The glass I collected soon came to represent those emotions, those decisions, those milestones in life... and my collection outgrew the jar.  Soon there were many jars...all filled with beach glass.

I still walk those beaches ... sometimes alone, sometimes with my husband, or sometimes with my son.  We search... we talk... we walk... only stopping to pick up treasures.  When beach glass is found - there is a ritual; an unwritten custom in our family.  When a piece of glass is found - it is handed to me in silence, passed from their hand to mine.  There is a pause as I roll the glass in my hand.  If accepted, the offering will be placed in a pocket.  If not, it will return to the sea.  And so it goes...


Why do I have jars filled with glass?  - because they are a collection of memories... life lessons, vacations, tough decisions, broken hearts, sick pets, sunny days, dying parents...and gifts from the ones I hold most dear.

Wanderlust wishes,

Joni