I’ll never forget the bright, August afternoon I walked with my Granny along the pleasant shores of Oak Island, North Carolina, nudging shells anxiously in the surf with my big toe as we strolled through the receding tides.
We’d walked together along these shores for years, ever since my childhood. My stomach was as tumultuous as the waves as we strolled side by side. I wanted this moment to be special — memorable. If only I could keep my nausea at bay long enough to do what I’d come here to do…
By that third month of pregnancy, I was convinced that I was barely human, spending roughly 80% of each day in bed sleeping or trying to keep down the tiny morsels of sustenance I could bring myself to nibble — in fact, I was amazed that I’d been able to conceal my condition from my all-seeing grandmother for as long as I had.
The clouds were perfectly puffed cumuli, and I’d known the time had come to tell her that I was pregnant. Stooping to scoop up a scalloped shell I’d been prying loose with my toes, I stood and pressed it into her palm, “Granny, I’m going to have a baby.”
She grasped the shell and looked up into my eyes, hers wide with surprise and joy. Anyone who knew my Granny would not be surprised to know that the first words out of her mouth were, “Oh my gosh” (in a sweet southern accent -- her melodic voice will continue to ring in my ears as long as I live).
I’ll never forget that moment. Granny would later say that it was such a beautiful day that she just knew that she would remember it forever — even before she knew about the baby.
Shells are like memories.
So many beautiful shapes and colors scattered along the shore — each one telling a story, recording a moment; capturing the sounds of the ocean or whispering of the pattern of the gulls, the ebb and flow of tides; the comings and goings of the people who collect them on sun-soaked summer days.
My FOUND SHELLS Fine Art Print speaks to these sorts of memory-filled summer days, a sweet reminder of all those precious moments we fill our hearts with, just as we fill our pockets with seashells.
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I love the paintings and the story goes so well with them. I wish more artists would add a little story to the back of each painting - telling of the inspiration or memory associated with the painting.