The Wooden Heart

I look for heart rocks at the beach.  Love it.  My son has gotten me to go down these steps to look three times so far.  It's fun....and kinda chilly in Oregon in February.  He's fun.  I found a heart.  I thought at first that it was one of the black rocks.  But it was wood.  Charred wood.  Smoothed by time in the surf.  No coal smudges from touching it.  Soft.  But...burnt.  Like me.  Not what it might have been.  But, something beautiful.  Something worth looking at.  Worth holding onto.  It's a special little memory of my time at the coast this time.  Very appropriate.  Burnt.  Damaged.  Thrown about.  Beautiful.
Great truths come from little happenings.
blessings.