Back in the day, when we found sand dollars at the Gulf of Mexico, we’d haul them home to dry out on the deck. Likewise with pretty shells and starfish. The sand dollars, in particular, were always a stinky disappointment, never fully drying in the humid weather. 

Now, though, I snap a photo, wish the creature well, and gently place it back into the sea.

Age? Wisdom?

I think there’s some writing life analogy here, but it’s nearly sunset, which requires my presence.