Mermaid Tears

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Call it mermaid tears, sea glass, beach glass, ocean glass, trash glass, I have a special affinity for it.

Working for an art consultant, recently a painting “Beach Glass” struck me with its equal parts of allure and demure. The artist’s intricate composition juxtaposes indigo blots and tortoise-toned greens along with the palest of frosty crystalline shades. Tinged with a craggy texture, each gem sparkles faintly.

Inspired, I delved into researching sea glass, which is discarded and broken bottles and other glass products that the water’s waves and currents tumble and smooth. Then and there I saw my reflection in the glass.

You see, before tragedy struck, I was head over heels in love with things like flamingos and poodles. Now a sense of apathy and distance divides me from pretty things. As impossible as it would have sounded a mere eight months ago, even scheduling a medi-pedi falls way low on the priority list these days.

Instead, I am like an empty bottle discarded and abandoned on the shore, broken beyond repair. However, as sunrise rolls into sunset, I sense a glimmer of faith in a repurposed life.

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I read that it can take seven to ten years in a constant surf environment for broken glass to transpose to mermaid tears.

For me, it will take a lifetime for the tactile edges to heal, become smoother with no shine, only frost. Fortunately, the hands of the living waters are gentle and as soft as a bed of seagrass.

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Faith Muscle

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