The Little Things

By Guy Cash Fleming

I was in no mood to talk to anyone. Every day I walked on the beach, I knew I was wearing a look that frightened people and small animals alike.

The sun may have been shining in all its glory, but in my mind’s eye it was dreary and cold, with zero chance of happiness. You could say it was not the best of times. Yet, it was also a time when I got to spend a few hours each day beachcombing. I would see other beachcombers in my peripheral vision. Either I’d be passing them, or they’d be passing me. Not one time did I make an attempt to say hi. Heck, at that time in my life, I didn’t want to say hi to myself in the mirror when I woke up, much less talk to a stranger.

After a few months, the “regular” beachcombers I’d see didn’t even bother to raise their heads. I don’t blame them. I was unapproachable.

But there was one person that would always glance at me. For months, I’d see her about three times a week. Zigzagging from the high-tide wrack line, to the tip of the latest breaking wave, she walked with the urgency of someone hunting down the million dollar ring she lost in the sand. She left no area untouched. As a matter of fact, local towns could hire her to clean their beaches. She’d do a quicker and better job than any John Deere tractor-powered beach sweeper.

For reasons I’ll never know, one day I smiled and said hello to her. We made small talk, and after a few minutes, introduced ourselves. Lauri was a retired school bus driver and kept active by looking for sea glass. Our conversation was enjoyable as we talked about sea glass for nearly an hour.

For months I had been stewing in my own misery and depression, but suddenly I was smiling and laughing, and felt alive.

I think we can all point back to pivotal moments in our lives. The time I spent talking to Lauri was one of mine.

Losing my home in a storm and getting divorced had put a damper on life, to say the least. Thankfully, while we chatted about sea glass, I didn’t have a care in the world.

Moments after we ended our conversation, Lauri walked away, and I reached into my bag to grab my phone. Looking down, I saw the most amazing turquoise blue sea glass. I consider it a treasure that means so much to me. I look at it as a trophy for meeting my friend Lauri and smiling when it felt impossible.

From that day forward, I try to say hi to everyone I see on the beach. That renewed approach to life has led to a few magical treasures, friendships that I couldn’t imagine, conversations with people who have had decades worth of beachcombing experience, and adventures with some of the most enjoyable people I’ve had the pleasure to know, which in turn has lead me to smiling more often and appreciating the little things.

This article appeared in Beachcombing Magazine Volume 41 March/April 2024.