![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRZvVZ1PgfcCQ0h5gSBvdVp6zQqvf2hmxlUJ9GjLjiz6BSsBc4VzPeFc48MFgAJ_UHuAAxzqdbx9RrUVVF-scpEUN5hdutnxj_2WfACJawHc2wnx3PEZXRcwYDWrTeiUkXXeFh9NZpNqrQ/s320/Amelia+8.jpg)
On one early December morning last year, a fireball sun cast a rosy glow on my wall as purple clouds surrendered to pale blue, and glittered across the calm ocean. A couple hours later, I walked barefoot through gentle waves, as my toes squished through liquid sand and dodged the pointed edges of a million shells strewn along the high tide line. By evening, I'd returned to a Midwestern ice storm.
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