How purple the shells on a Vancouver beach on a rainy day.
After "Night Sea, 1963" by Victoria Chang
On this beach, my happiness doubles because the shells are more than I can count. A part of me is afraid to pocket even one.
Is this how people fall in love with the seasons? Change blows in and out and the trail of happiness stretches on, purple as rain.
It is too much to pocket. It is too much happiness to ever retrace. Still, I left some shells where …
