There is a whiteness in the sand that becomes particularly so when the blue green waters blend into it. Aruba shores. So often the sun hits these surfaces and the reflection comes apart like soft brilliant broken glass. Surf birds float over these places looking for the easy pickings we leave behind. Here and there a crusted and weedy anchor rope comes from the ocean and climbs up on the beach to secure a small fishing dingy that floats nearby at the other end.
Sadly plastic has become the norm yet - the beauty of it all still hides it, even when it is in plain sight. The Aruban shores are laden with foot prints and memories. Empty towels scattered here and there attest to a nearby bather afloat and resting as the ocean sucks away the heat of the sun from the body. Even when empty of humans, the voices float nearby the carved posts that hold up the chikies. They whisper that "Bob and Mary from Texas were here in 2006" And when the shores are packed with humanity the walker need only look down and search for small shells in the grains of sand - at that instant, everything dissappears and the shore is there to listen to your most secret thoughts.
But listen closely. Use your nose to sense, your ears to see and your heart to know that the line where water meets sand is crying to you. It says;
I am not forever, I have aged and my beauty is in your eyes only. I blind you with this splender only because you have accustomed yourself to looking at tar and cement. While I am not that, remember that in my loveliness I am fragile. Care for me and treat me like your first born for in the beginning I was.