We spent nearly every day on the beach, where a breeze from the frigid north Atlantic tempered the intense heat of mid-summer sun. The sand was soft and fine and low tide revealed a compact, rippled expanse, good for drawing, building, running or beach combing. I collected small stones whose shapes pleased me for some reason, half clamshells, popsicle sticks for building, and of course, lost coins.
My greatest treasures were tiny, worn sand dollars, some nearly too small to see. My grandmother would walk with me, her sharper eye always on the lookout for my heart's desire.