Seashells

I was chatting with a friend today about seashells. I have them all over my house and often in the most unlikely of places. I do not live anywhere near a beach and have no sort of beach decor in my home. I simply place these shells lovingly throughout my house as a reminder of my most favorite place on earth...the beach.

Some of these shells have a specific memory attached to them. I have one that sits on my desk at work and it reminds me of what I came very near to losing last summer. I have a glass bowl filled with lovely pinkish ones, gathered on a private beach near Marco Island, Florida, reminding me of a very special and precious family vacation. One shell I snuck up on a window sash and it brings to mind a walk on a rainy Christmas Eve on a cold and deserted beach in St Pete. I have dozens of them, dozens of lovely reminders. Lovely memories all, personal benchmarks projected onto my favorite souvenirs from my most favorite place.

It occurs to me these shells are a sort of Talisman. A Talisman is an object believed to be magical, believed to confer on its bearer supernatural powers or protection. A Talisman these shells most certainly are as they are indeed magical to me. I feel their power when I look at them, when I succumb to the thoughts they evoke from within me. As for protection, I need only hold the shell in my hand and the sweet memory transports me to a lovely day far removed from whatever is bothering me in the present. Inanimate objects with a life of their own, they elicit reflection and private thought.

I think we all have this sort of souvenir, this sort of Talisman if you will. Reminders of happy times, blessed days and significant events...even people. Charms that distract us from grief or annoyance, symbols of happy times and the winsome frivolity that springs from joyful memories. For some they take the form of photographs, matchbooks, menus from restaurants, stones and pebbles...all sorts of things and yes, seashells. My children have their own magical tokens. My daughter a silly miniature green plush poodle that has an endearing and enduring meaning only the two of us know about. My oldest son a T shirt he won in a competition when he was twelve years old. One he wore underneath an athletic uniform until it split it's seams, threadbare, just like one his father had worn the same way before him. A reminder of accomplishment and dreams, of a father's advice and guidance, a shared bond. My youngest son has a plastic angel, swiped from his older brother's room when he went away to college. Something he could hold and have and keep his brother near and not feel so left behind. I came across it, buried in a drawer, not two weeks ago when I emptied his dresser upon the delivery of new furniture.

Magical charms with memories attached. Powerful reminders of constants like the love between those in a family, the love of a place where peace is found, the love of a person where a life is found. Long and lasting powerful memories that protect and preserve, that provide peace. Memories that endure despite all that may transpire in us and around us.

Talismans, indeed.....