age seven

you walk along the shore day in and day out
hoping to get that special shell that you had thrown away so long ago
but it never returns

at age seven you threw it away in a tantrum
at age eleven you thought of it again
at age fourteen you returned to find it
at age sixteen you found a replacement but it wasn't the same
at age seventeen you saw it for a moment but it slipped away in the tide
at age twenty-two you give up looking for it
at age thirty you try one more time, but you cut your foot on the ocean floor
at age forty-one you you stare at the water from the dock
at age sixty-five you found it
and just seconds later, you gave it to the seven year old who admired it with a glowing face
at age seventy-four, the boy now sixteen, places the shell in your coffin as you go away forever