The following is a excerpt being posted for “Six Sentence Sunday,” from a piece I did some time go called, “And Pluck ’til Time and Times are Done. . .”  In the memoir/essay I reflect on the power of words – a power that can often extend beyond the power of a picture – even the words of a four-year-old boy.  I was engaging my nephew Christopher in a coversation about some sea shells we were examining together:

 “Say, Chris!  Why do you suppose you can hear the ocean from inside that shell?  Does it have a tiny telephone or a little-bitty radio inside there, sending the sea-song to your ear?”  Instead of giggling, he took on a very thoughtful expression, hesitated a moment, and then said, “No, Aunt Paula, I think the shell has a ‘special remembering thing’ inside it.  And that way, no matter where it is, it carries the ocean with it.”  I can still taste the sweetness of that moment, and can bring to my mind, at will, the fragrance it left in the air.   I was humbled by the thoughtfulness and wisdom of this child, and the way his words conveyed a picture and a feeling in a way no other medium could accomplish.”

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