I loved the way the tide rolled the ash in the sand into intricate patterns. As the tide receded back into the sea, the wet glistening sand would quickly dry in the suffocating heat to reveal a fresh pattern of ash. Each new pattern was like a fingerprint for every new wave.
I was walking barefoot and couldn’t resist the urge to drag my toes through one of these patterns. I pressed my toes into the sand and smooshed a line through the ash. When I lifted my foot, my toes were black. Why was that so satisfying?
The tide rolled up again and as it receded the ash formed into a fresh, unspoiled design.