The Shells and the Large Conch Shell

In Sint Maarten, the sea was my favorite place to find peace, to re-energize and to think about my future. Almost every Saturday, Tjark and I would leave for the beach early in the morning. Six o’clock was our favorite time, as the soft rustling of the waves was overcome with absolute silence. There were only a few people walking across the beach, so there was enough room to lay down our towels and enjoy the rising sun. The water of the ocean stretched out as far as the eye could see. The arriving cruise ships reminded us of majestic castles, rising out on sea. Tjark and I often dreamed of taking a cruise. That day has yet to come.

On some Saturdays, when Tjark could not join me because of work, I would spend the day at the beach with my nephew, Cee-Jay. For him, going to the beach was a real trip. We stayed there for hours on end. Our favorite thing to do was looking for special shells. He had a real knack for finding them. Throughout the years, we put together a beautiful collection of shells. When I left Sint Maarten, I was not able to take them all. I made a deal with him that I would take a part of the collection as a souvenir of our times together on the beach. A few months before I left, Cee-Jay found the most special shell ever: a conch shell. These are not particularly hard to find on the beach, but it is rare to come across one that is undamaged. Cee-Jay found one just like that. Avidly he gave the shell to me and said that I ought to take it with me to that other country I was going to. “Then I’ll be with you as well, aunt Rachel,” he said. I wrapped the conch shell with the utmost care. Together with my mini-collection of shells, it is proudly displayed as a showpiece, but mostly as a reminder of the good times with my nephew on the beach, those Saturdays in Sint Maarten.