I was on the beach, on one of the most beautiful islands in the Caribbean.

We were there to relax under an umbrella, rising to snorkel, swimming lazily, gliding over rocks, coral, and the occasional sea turtle.

The tide proved to be strong this day. Despite wearing flippers on my feet, my arms and legs could not keep up with the force of the ocean.

Exhausted, I fought my way back to the shore, and flopped back down on my chair.

Not for long. It was hot, and I was restless.

Rising, I walked along the shoreline. Many people were looking for shells, but I spotted a cool green shadow among the pebbles that rolled with the tide.

Sea glass.

I picked it up, amazed to have found it for the first time in the wild.

As I ran my fingers over and over the surface, I was amazed at how smooth it was.

It had started whole.

Formerly trash, it had been smashed into countless small pieces, tumbled and formed by the sea, sand, and rocks.

It had been battered.

It had been cast aside.

Now, in the palm of my hand, it felt warm, soft, and comforting.

The clear, colored shards were now opaque and smooth, hiding the story that got them there.

There were many more outcasts littering the beach that day, and I took a few to remind me of this tropical beach.

The rough tide.

Most of all, to remind me of what happens when we let go and let what happens…happen.

Beauty from glasses.