Posts Tagged ‘nautilus’

In a helix enchambered

October 26, 2011

Another story.

N doesn’t have kids. He’s 43 years old and has no plans to have kids in the future. N is a good guy, but just never wanted to be a father.

Last week his sister came to visit him with her two kids, ages 1 and 4. N lives in a beautiful house by the sea. He loves the water and spends entire days with his sandals, sketchbook, and swimsuit, capturing the pink curls of shells or the swell of warm waves. He finds great joy in the search for remarkable colors and shapes.

When his sister arrived, he decided to share the most beautiful spot he had found: a white sand beach with bioluminescence in the water. Live silver that can be touched. It was a 3 hour drive from his home by the sea. He packed the kids and his sister into his car. This story happened a long time ago, so the four took the ride with no air conditioner or fast food restaurant stops. The children cried and the backs of their legs stuck to the dark leather seats.

The group reached the beach just at sunset, when the bioluminescence was most magnificent. The older child whined that the beach at night was terrible. She clutched her pail and shovel, knowing that it was too dark to build a castle. The baby was very hungry and thirsty from all the heat.

N’s sister had a thought that lingered in her mind for years to come, open and spiraling like a nautilus.

Dear reader, finish my poem. Please also give it a title.

This Wikipedia and Wikimedia Commons image is from the user Chris 73 and is freely available at //commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:NautilusCutawayLogarithmicSpiral.jpg under the creative commons cc-by-sa 3.0 license.