Dear Izzi

Dear Izzi, 

There's an insane aspect of life that no one seems to notice. Maybe they just classify it under the aspect of "growing up." When you're young; just a baby and through the age of roughly six, you see everything as beautiful. Absolutely everything; broken sea shells, cloudy gray skys, and rainy days. Then it's as if something just snaps, like a light switch. A single bolt of lightning. The broken shell isn't beautiful, and you toss it away. The cloudy, rainy days become "nasty" and you want to stay inside. The love, ambition, acceptance and hope within children is simply beautiful. I think too though; that maybe sometimes, rarely, we have a "flashback" to being a child. You see, just the other day; We were sitting on the beach , you were picking up the broken shells and going on and on about how beautiful they all were. I just smiled and laughed; until you handed me one. I held it in my hand and looked at it, I really looked at it. And I realized just how beautiful this little broken shell was. Because how are we to know where this shell came from? How are we to know of it's story? It's been through so much, it could have been a home to some foreign  sea creature who we know not of their existence. It could be from across the world. It made a difference. Sure, it's a little broken now, and maybe it's not so shiny or new. But what was ever so great about shiny and new after all? It's broken because of everything it's done, all that it's endured. Now it was washed up on the seashore, to be found by a little girl who brought out the true beauty in it. And I think that's beautiful