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Hermit crab

September 30, 2010

She had told him she would remember him always, but there came a day when she realized he had stopped inhabiting all the stories. As if he were a hermit crab, he had scuttled away and left her talking about empty shells.

If she held them to her ear, she could hear something that sounded like breathing, but in her hand, they were as cold as the sea before dawn.

4 comments

  1. Oh!
    This is lovely.


  2. Sarahliz, many thanks.


  3. I was, oddly enough, very far away from any type of home, not in Houston not in Virginia, not in El Salvador, when something similar happened to me. I was in Cartagena de Indias, looking down into a courtyard in a colonial era building, when I realized his presence had lifted from my heart and drifted away, painlessly. And I wasn’t surprised. I realized I had said goodbye months ago but hadn’t admitted it, hadn’t truly let go until that moment. The space freed up inside left me feeling new and refreshed.


  4. Raquel, thanks for sharing this…it’s such a powerful moment when that happens.



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