He kept saying over and over and over, “Life is so abundant.”
He got lost in the tide pools. I left him there, in peace, but turned back over my shoulder to capture a piece of his wonder in my memory like a precious shell to add to my collection. He’d pointed out how, even in a little tide pool, the circumference of a foot bath, there were tiny currents of water. Miniature jet streams and tides and yet, a certain timeless peace to it all. Hundreds of organisms pulsating in symbiosis.
"I can’t tell if the water is coming or going," she said.
“It all depends on the Moon,” he replied. “It always depends on the Moon.”