After one of the big storms that come in from the islands, our shore is covered with small clams. The clams are no larger than the end of your finger and the wind spread them out on the beach so thick it’s hard to walk. The clams are blue and when you look either way, up or down the beach, all you can see for leagues are these tiny blue clams. That’s why we call it the Blue Beach.
He tried to picture the ocean. The great blue expanse that linked him to his parents. He saw the waves, smooth as silk, slip and slither, saw them break up and roil in great spurts of foam. He pictured his parents standing out on another shore, thinking of him.