Moonglass

I leaned in closer. Scattered over the palm of her hand were some of the most vibrant colors of sea glass I had ever seen. Turquoise, cobalt blue, and purple all mingled like jewels.
    “Did you find all those right here, today ?” I looked around my feet, hoping for some of her luck.
    “Yeah. I told ya. It’s like somebody cracked open a treasure chest.” She chuckled a little. “I suppose I can share my rock piles with you for today. You seem to be someone who has an appreciation for what the ocean can uncover.” She stuck out her hand. “Name’s Joy. I used to live here, but now I just visit it when I can.”
    I wondered if when she said “here” she meant she’d been one of the residents. Who’d been forced to leave. By the state, which my dad worked for. A little wave of nervous guilt went through me, but when I took her hand, it was warm in spite of the chilling wind, and I relaxed. She had no idea who my dad was or where I lived.
    I shook it. “I’m Anna.” She held on, just a moment too long, her eyes studying mine, until I unclasped my hand from hers. I tucked my arms over my chest.
    “Aren’t you cold?”
    “Honey, look at me. I’m old. I haven’t been cold for two years, if you know what I mean.” I laughed a little, sure there must be some small joke in her comment, and thankful the strange moment had passed. “I’m gonna head up that way”—she motioned with her head—”so we don’t cross paths and have to fight over the same pieces.” She stepped effortlessly in her bare feet over the stones and continued on with her back to me, head down in quiet contemplation, like the rest of the world didn’t exist. I stood watching, and an image of my mother walking the beach the same way opened up in my mind.
    I was little, maybe four or five, but the memory was vivid and one I held close and dear.
    We walked together in the warm afternoon light, and every so often she would stoop to pick something up. She’d smile as she rubbed the sand off a piece of sea glass, hold it up for me to see in the sunlight, and drop it into our special blue pouch that she kept for these walks. Our walks had gotten more rare by then, but I’d wait for the days when she’d light up and ask me to join her, and we’d walk for hours.
    The first piece I ever found by myself was on a walk like that. She walked ahead while I trailed a stick in the sand, watching the wavy path it made. A translucent triangle lying in the waterline caught my eye, and I bent down to investigate. White water rushed up almost to it, and I snatched it up quickly and then held it up, yelling to my mother that I had found “A beauty,” just like she always called them. She turned and broke into a proud smile, then picked me up and squeezed me tight.
    “This one is yours, Anna. We’ll start you your own jar.” I dropped it into the special pouch and carried it the rest of the way, searching for another piece, hooked on the treasure and the happiness it had brought to my mother’s face. Out of all the pieces of sea glass in the jar in my room, I could still pick this one out effortlessly. It sat in the bottom of the jar, buried beneath the pieces collected over years of walking the beach without her.
    Water rushed up around my feet, and beneath it I caught a flash of a slick surface. I didn’t reach with my hand but put my foot down hard over the spot and waited until the water receded, leaving an indentation in the sand. I lifted my foot and bent down to retrieve the piece of glass. I didn’t much care for the brown ones, but always picked them up in case they were actually red. In the sunlight I could see that it wasn’t. I was about to throw it back when I saw Joy out of the corner of my eye.
    “You ever heard of mermaid tears?” she asked, eyeing the piece of glass poised in my hand. When she said it, I saw my mom again, this time seated next to me while we buried our toes in the sand. She told the story while I imagined beautiful, lonely women swimming beneath the waves.
    “Sea glass, right? Something to do with mermaids and sea glass.”
    She nodded reverently and took the piece of glass from my hand, then held it up in the wind and the sun. “The story is that each piece of sea glass that washes up on the beach is a crystallized tear that a mermaid has shed for a lost love.” I could hear my mom’s lyrical voice telling the same story as I sat next to her, my arms around my knees. I hadn’t thought of it in