We arrive in the darkness, but stepping out of the car, I can taste salt on my lips. With wreckage around but joy in my heart, I run through the black sands to the water’s edge, reaching for treasure.

My mom pulls out her phone to capture a memory her mind will someday forget, but she hopes technology will remember. I laugh as ocean spray soaks my pants, and winds left over from a storm glues hair to my lips. My life is in bloom in Sanibel. 

My soul would resemble a tiny seashell. I have long been fascinated with every life and breath of the ocean, but what lies in jars and bowls around my space is seashells. 

As a shell collector one of the most anticipatory places to visit is Sanibel Island. The position of the island juxtaposed with currents in the ocean allows for a unique amount of Gulf shells to wash up fully intact and preserved.

I asked to spend spring break of 2022 with my mom, and she suggested Sanibel. 

What residents of Sanibel Island, my mother, and I did not expect was Hurricane Ian. The damage was catastrophic, and even seeing the island months later, there was still tremendous work to be done.

I close my eyes and feel the heat on my back. I hear the constant crashing of waves turning over shells and my mother's light snores in a beach chair. I taste triumph as I find another ocean wonder. This moment is where I go to visit my happy place.