Tuesday, November 29, 2011
glass for sand
Cut to me: November 2011, hope building as the road led to the sound of the waves. And then, nothing. Gone. It was all gone. Not just the candy-colored glass but the entire beach was different. Rough, broken cliffs with a 20-foot drop to the sand, spattered with lost, monotone puddles. I paced around and had to get closer, climbing down, my husband saying too late that it didn't look safe. I crouched down to look. To see it for myself. A few shiny bits. Something you might call glass. Completely unremarkable. But the road was there. The signs were there: Glass Beach. What happened?
After admitting more than 30 years had passed since I'd last visited, he scoffed at my surprise. Of course, it's different, he said. That was ages ago. So I snapped a grainy, cheap cell phone photo and resigned myself to the fragile mental image of dunes of color, a king's ransom worth of discarded, broken glass.