It was a partly cloudy day. A Thursday to be specific. We had just arrived the day before in Boothbay Harbor, ME. Everyone had already walked back to the hotel, after breakfast in the Inn. It was just my dad and I walking back. As we were walking, we decided we wanted to go ahead and sit there for a while watching and listening to the ocean. We sat in the blue and white wooden chairs. We heard the sailboats drifting out to sea. The lighthouse was just barely visible in the distance on a small island. The sound of the waves splashing against the rocks and the squeaking of the seagulls. It occurred to me how lucky I was to be in such a magical place.

My dad decided he wanted to go for a short walk on the pier. We watched boats drifting into the bay. Watched seagulls fighting to get the fish in the water. We took a few pictures together, and then we headed to our special spot where we looked for sea glass. The spot where we found sea glass was a small little beach underneath the pier.
I reached the ground that had sand and pebbles. I slipped off my shoes and put my feet in the sand. It was cold. Not too cold where I wanted to put my shoes back on, but just the right temperature. I walked over to the water and just barely dipped my toe in. The water was freezing. I jumped out and by that time my dad had made his way down to me. The waves were brushing up against the sand. I walked over to the water and saw something shining in the water. Buried in the damp sand mixed in with a pile of mushy, orange seaweed was a blue piece of sea glass. I put my hand into the sand and grabbed the piece of sea glass. I brushed it off with my blue tank top. It shined in the sun. The edges were smooth, not as sharp as regular glass. Ever since I was young I thought the ocean made the pretty glass. My grandfather told me that sailors that were out at sea threw their old bottles in the water. Having the broken glass rub up against the sand made the edges smooth. The beauty of the sea glass was breathtaking. The Cobalt blue color of the glass, with the transparent wax feeling, was a feeling on your fingers like nothing before. Some of it was glossy; others were covered by what looked like a smooth layer of cornstarch. I showed my dad.

I held the sea glass up to the ocean. The color was almost an exact replica of the ocean away in the far distance. That piece of sea glass was really special to me. I kept it, and to this day I still own it. It is kept in a small box titled Boothbay Harbor.