Jousting at My Personal Windmill

Seashells are disappearing from the seashore. They have been for years. People have collected them almost out of existence. It’s true that mollusks are always making new ones, but it’s very rare to find shells the size we saw when I was a kid. Meanwhile, hundreds of seashells languish in lamps and jars, or glued to decorative plaques hanging in the basements of elderly Americans. Hermit crabs use plastic bottle caps for homes because all the discarded shells have been harvested by beachcombers. There’s no new sand being made the surf pounding the clam’s cast-off body.

The loss of seashells on our beaches bothers me. It makes me sad. I’ve decided that my batshit-crazy old lady cause is going to be seashell repatriation. When I’m old and rich and bored, I’ll travel to garage sales and antique shops across this great land of ours buying seashells and returning them to the ocean. I’ll get a post office box and accept seashell donations to the Seashell Repatriation Society.

Someday, I hope there are enough seashells for children to start finding them again. Fortunately, my educational efforts will have been so successful that children will leave them on the beach for others to see.

TODAY’S MEMOIR WRITING PROMPT: What is something that you was prevalent in your childhood that is largely gone now? How do you feel about it?

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